Poop Talk

Alright, there was bound to come a time when I had a blog post about poop. Today, there were a couple of memorable moments, one from each child that make for a good poop story.

I was running around the house this morning in my usual routine, cleaning and picking up, throwing laundry in the dryer etc. My hands had already been soaped up and dried off half a dozen times and I'd put on at least two pumps of my hand lotion in a sorry attempt to restore the cracked dried skin to the soft silky feminine smooth as a babies bum hands I'm apparently supposed to have.

I hear my daughter call from the bathroom. I'm in the kitchen drying of said dry hands for the ten billionth time. Her call sounds dramatic but not the sort that sounds urgent. More the kind that is, Mummy I want to show you something and you have to come now. Feeling like I had neglected my little girl in the morning for the chores I was wanting to check of my list I came arunning with pumped up drama and excitement appropriate for my four, almost five year old.

I found her de-clothed and on the throne where she proudly, ever so proudly, announced she had "Soup Poop" and a little accident. In my freshly painted, beautifully and somewhat recently cleaned bathroom my daughter had a little accident with "soup poop" that couldn't wait to come out. It was a priceless moment. I cleaned up the "soup poop" and washed my hands, slapped on the hand lotion and thought to myself -- I must blog about "soup poop" later today.

Later came my son's, a twenty-one month old, announcement of his own bowel movements. For those who are not up to speed my son has been evaluated with having delayed speech and has been recommend for some group speech therapy. He isn't uttering one single word of anything remotely intelligible. But he is my boy and I love him and in my heart of mummy hearts, I know he'll prove everyone wrong one day and show us just what a smartie pants he really is.

Today, he pooped in his diaper. A nice big juicy solid bowel movement filled up his huggies and gosh darn it he just had to let me know about it -- in a public library. Here's how it all went down (no punn intended). I was sitting with both my kids in the library reading books with them and having them crawl over me. I felt like I looked like the perfect mother to outsiders -- I had the attention of my clean, groomed four (almost five year old) and my twenty one month old. Both were quiet, enjoying the books I was reading with them and cooperating with my mother chants of stay close to me, put that back, don't pull on this etc etc.

In the midst of reading a book my son stepped off my lap and marched over to the bathroom door, pointed his little index finger at it and said, "duer...duer..." He then looked at me and then at the librarian who I usually ask to push a button that opens the bathroom "duer". Lamely, and excitedly I projected my voice across the library (my four year old was clasped around my neck in a love hug) and asked him, "Ryan did you go poo-poo?" His face lite up like a lantern. My son and I were communicating with verbal utterances and understanding each other. It was a triumphant moment. Without shame and in true motheresque style I projected my voice again, "Ryan do you need a new di-di?" He responded with "Da, da" and walked towards me with confirmation that yes indeed he did want a new diaper. Of course I left the diaper bag in the car. We marched back together to the car for a diaper change and decided there just wasn't enough room to change him with the risk of loosing some of that juicy poop. What did I do? Well, I marched back to the library with the diaper gear layed him down on the floor in his full glory and changed his diaper in full smelling view of the poor unsuspecting patrons. Aren't I just a terrific mum?

I can't end this poop talk post without giving a small mention to one little book I bought for my daughter a couple years back. Check out the book below and look for it in your local library and bookstores. It is quite hilarious and perfect for little ones learning to let go.

These are my kids and why I love what I do

Maggie -- she has many interesting and funny things say, like all children her age, and I do my best to make a note of them and write them down. Her most recent couple of comments which made me laugh to myself went something like this -: "Mummy I want to bring the shari desert with me." This was a red box she usually keeps her collection of dinosaur and various other animals in. In it was a soft bear toy of Ryan's we affectionately named Yogi because of his size and colour. Another memorable Maggie comment came as we were having some girl time together. We were looking though a children's clothing catalogue, I was showing her a dress I thought she would like to have and she was showing me some items she wanted to have and some items she thought Ryan would enjoy too. In the midst of turning pages she held up her hand and said, "Wait, wait. No mummy. Wait a minute! I want to go down this aisle."

Ryan. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. My sweet Ryan. He by far has to receive the sweetest boy award (for this month anyway). He loves to blow kisses, pout his lips and lean in for a kiss, give me big bear hugs with his little arms wrapped around my neck. He also loves, loves, loves his collection of truck books. I don't know what it is about them but he simple loves them and doesn't like to be parted with them either. For a few nights in a row he has insisted on taking them to bed with him. He loves the real thing just as much. I could be putting him down for a nap but if he hears a loud roar of a truck outside his bedroom window he'll come right out of his sleepy like trance, look up at me and say, "aah-doo". I had to chase him in the park a few weeks back as he made a run for the dustman (aka trash man truck) and park ranger truck. He was really fascinated by them. Like most boys, he also loves balls. Anywhere he see's a ball he'll want to move towards it. It doesn't matter what colour it is. It doesn't matter what texture or what it is made of. If it is small, big or middle size. If it is round and rolls and he can pick it up (and even when its way to big for him to pick up) he will love it and play with it for many a "toddler-hour". Tonight he went to bed with a big soft ball that was more than half his size. I layed him down in his crib and he just starred up at me with his big blue eyes and hugged the big soft ball as if it was his new best friend. My Ryan, gosh I love him so.

Never a day goes by when I don't appreciate the good fortune of my family. Sure I worry about them and have blogged about my concerns regarding them but when I put them to bed at night I feel truly blessed and thankful for another day I got to be their mummy. In the same vain, I rarely get bogged down by the endless pile laundry. I realize that I have a pile of laundry because I have two beautiful children and wonderful husband. The clutter of toys may make me want to toss them out the window from time to time but they remind me of my children's imaginations and their innocence. Similarly, cooking and preparing three meals a day might feel overwhelming at times but always feels me with joy when all the family get to share a meal time together. They store some of the most precious moments.

Tonight, I am feel tired and ragged but I will be happy to get up in the morning and start this all over again. I love you Maggie. I love you Ryan. And Eric, I love you too -- always.

The Evaluation: A Re-Run

Today Ryan was evaluated at a speech and language center. It was officially determined, again, that he is behind in his expressive language and is being recommended for group speech therapy three times a week for two hours each time. The news, though expected, has hit hard. Once paperwork has been completed, he will probably start a program in about three to four weeks.

It is challenging to find the right words to express the mix of emotions. I can tell that I don't need others giving me advise on how to get him to talk. I can tell that I'm very sensitive about the choice of words people use to discuss his speech with me. My mum, articulately choose "backwards" and it took all my will to calmly tell her that I thought "backwards probably wasn't the best choice". I can tell that it gets under my skin when people try to prompt or "trick" him into talking. I know they mean well but come on people if he's not talking, he's not talking. He's not going to start producing words because you've asked him to do so.

Ugh. Such a ugly place to be. The necessity to sit and be polite to well meaning comments and deflect the negativism -- all while you're trying to prevent your own little brewing pot of anxiety and fear from boiling over.

The program he will be invited to enroll in will basically take the form of a pre-school. The ratio will be one to three and a speech pathologist being the assigned "teacher". My impression is that group therapy will create a competitive, but hopefully still nurturing, environment where Ryan will be motivated to vocalize his wants, needs and desires. I'll have to wait and see to get a better idea of how this whole thing is going to pan out -- first there is yet more paperwork and a hearing test to be done.

I think I'm going to find this whole transition of group speech therapy very difficult both emotionally and physically. I am spent tonight. I'm tired and just plain old worn out with all the talk and the evaluations of my sweet, sweet little boy. I feel a little robbed of this precious time in his life. It's harder to enjoy the milestones as much for the worry that he's not on target or he should be doing this, saying that etc. I feel the pang of mummy guilt as much as I feel protective and defensive.

If I was to roll my 8-ball tonight I am sure it would tell me that I'll be playing "sleeping lions" when Ryan is in kindergarten. Until then, I have to ride this road I'm on. I hope it takes me to an open field of tall grass and buttercups and daffodils where we can run around and catch the butterflies.

I love you Rye-guy. More than words and tears can say.

Life as a Mom in Six Words

Love, ache, smile, cry, want, fear.

Idea inspired from Baby Center

A Phone Call and a Playdate

Just had to type up a quick entry about a phone call I received today. My sister-in-law, Lisa, rang in the later afternoon proclaiming boredom and a touch of cabin fever. We exchanged similar stories and before I knew it we had agreed that she would drive over to my place and we'd trek off to our local park.

I am so glad she picked up the phone to call me. I really enjoyed her visit and had a wonderful time picking up her children and giving them a cuddle when they obliged. I adore her children as I do my own and get so much from seeing them tot themselves around.

It was lovely too to see Maggie entertain them and see my sister-in-law interact with her. I think that Lisa must have set quite an impression with Maggie too as she detailed a rather fancy story at dinner time about a time when she and Lisa went blackberry picking in the forest and took all the strawberries away from the big bear.

Can't wait to do it again and Lisa, I finally got my laundry put away tonight. Well, most of it. Another load is spinning around in the dryer as I type.

So Much To Be Happy About...

I've been busy. Busy with happy things and busy with things which need to be taken care of. Let me begin with my datenight last week. It was Wednesday night, the night off he planned for me for Mother's Day. It was a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful evening. Grandma J came over to look after the children around four in the afternoon which gave me time to get into a fresh pair of jeans (my uniform of choice) and a cute new top I purchased for the event. Hubby and I left at five, relaxed and happy to be out of the house together while the sun was still up. I can't remember the last time we were out alone without the kids when it was still light so this alone felt pretty darn special. We made it to our old familiar stomping ground in L.A. with enough time to enjoy dinner at a favorite Indian restaurant we used to frequent.

We sat and waited for our food to come and it was still light outside. I smile now as I write this and can see hubby's face with his goofy smile, along with slouched shoulders and seriously old but much loved tee-shirt. The food was up to its usual scrumalicious standard and it was a great treat not to be asking for the cheque to go before and entrees hit the table. Spending quality time with hubby and enjoy each others company as we did when we first met, if not more so, was the a biggest reward of the entire evening. It is a very comforting feeling to enjoy your partner of ten plus years without the chaos of life for distraction.

The show, "Wicked", was far from a disappointment too. Hubby went all out and got some super tickets. We were thirteen rows from the front and pretty much in the center of the front stage. There were a three little girls around Maggie's age sitting in front of us looking too cute for words, donned with their best dresses and hair pinned up -- sitting next to their equally cute L.A. style mothers. Eric and I looked at each other and I'm sure we were thinking the same thing -- We have to take Maggie to the theatre this summer. But the show, the show, the show. More about the show. It was a musical so had lots of singing and dancing and jumping about the stage with a little bit of flying and special effects thrown in. Overall it was a great show to see and it was interesting to see the how the plot unfolded if not a little predictable for my analytical mind. The singing was exemplary and some of the songs were particularly touching -- I can foresee many a high school putting on their own production. I think though, I may have outgrown my love for musicals and might just prefer to see a play instead but hey, I'm not complaining. We had a great time. It was a lot of fun and a great date night. One I shall not forget.

Moving on to this past weekend -- it was a lot of fun too. Hubby has been out of town and no, that is not as the reason why it was so much fun. One of the other trillion reasons I have a lot to be happy about is the graciousness of my in-laws. I really couldn't ask for a better pair. This weekend my father in-law fulfilled a promise he made to me on my birthday back in January. He came down to paint my bathroom. Let me say that again. My father-in-law came down to paint my bathroom, a bathroom that has been on out list to do for about three years now. We supplied the paint and all the tools and he did all the hard work of sanding, prep and painting. Wow! What a guy.

Though I couldn't do much to help out with the actual painting and prepping part of the bathroom it has been great to have his company. My children just adore him and its been truly splendid having him around. He bought out a different side to Maggie that I don't get to see that often and caused my son to spin around on his stomach with excitement just by knocking at the door in the mornings. And for me? For me, he has given and shown me so much more than a painted bathroom, so much more. I don't mean to sound so pathetically sappy here but my father-in-law has shown so much integrity and class it has been inspiring and quite frankly, a life learning experience. I am and always will be grateful for the love and respect he has shown me. I am truly honored.

Last week Maggie also had her own art show at her pre-school. This is her last week so it was quite a poignant moment to attend her school's annual art show. Maggie had four pieces on show complete with a little photo of herself next to each piece. Sparkling apple cider and lots of great finger food was provided by the parents of the pre-schoolers and overall it was a great evening with a chance to thank the people who had made Maggie's year of pre-school a memorable and positive one. I was also more than happy to part with my dollars to pay for Maggie's art work. Believe it or not, and with biased aside, her pieces are frame worthy. I'll be sure to look out for some good deals on frames and if I knew how to scan and upload photos I would be posting them on here too. Her collection consisted of a blue collage on canvas, a Pollock inspired canvas piece, a sand paint on black canvas piece, and a Picasso inspired portrait piece. It really was amazing to see what creativity the teachers were able to pull out of my little Maggie and the high level of art work many of the other kids showed. It was lovely. If I didn't think I was robbing another parent of their kids work I'd be buying some of the other kid's work too. This week is Maggie's last and final week of pre-school. I am sure it will whip round to Friday before I know it. I can tell already that I'm going to burst some water banks. My big girl is just growing up too fast.

The Orange Juice Experiment

This is one of the many reasons why I am glad to stay at home with my children. My daughter took her time to get out of bed this morning (she is her mother's child) and I decided that as we were already running late for her pre-school we may as well just be late, slow down and enjoy the morning. After all, she will soon be out of pre-school and into kindergarten where leisurely mornings will be a thing of the past.

This is a small part of our morning -: The Orange Juice Experiment.

In getting breakfast together for my littlest one I cut up some orange pieces for him, made him some toast and gave him some yogurt with a glass of store bought O.J on the side. Breakfast is a big meal in our house -- well for the kids it is. I'm doing well if I have a bite of toast and a glass of something. As I was sitting with my sweet little boy, enjoying his smile, I was inspired.

I wondered -- had Maggie ever seen how to get juice from an orange? Lemons, yes, but orange juice? Does she even really understand the concept of orange juice from a bottle being squeezed out of an orange? Maybe, but probably not. So after Maggie finally got out of bed and dressed for the day (this is after playing in her room and reading two books with me and Ryan) we were in the kitchen and I told her I had something really cool to show her.

I opened the fridge door and pulled out an orange. I asked her, "What is this called?" She looked at me puzzled and said in a giggly voice, "It's an orange mummy." I then cut the orange in half and showed her the center, "Look at the inside Maggie, isn't it pretty? Do you see all the segments? These two halfs make one whole orange, look see -- two halfs make one orange."

"Oh yeah ..." she said, still a little perplexed about what was going to be so cool. "Now watch this." I pulled out my hand juicer put one half orange on top, pushed down and squeezed. The juice came pouring out like water from a tap. She giggled some more and let out an expletive "wow! Mummy! Look at all the juice! Be careful mummy. You're spilling some. Oh wow! So juicy."

She then helped me pour the juice we collected from the two half into a clean glass and we sampled it. It wasn't bad, a little tart. We then grabbed another glass and poured in the O.J. from the store. Maggie noticed they differed slightly in colour and declared that the store orange juice tasted much better and decided to extend the experiment further. "I know mummy. I've got a great idea. Lets mix the two up together." And so we did. The tartness of the fresh orange juice engulfed the flavor of the store bought juice and Maggie was no longer interested in sampling anything more other than the store's juice.

She was so cute and unbelievable excited about the whole experiment. She finished her breakfast, packed her "story bag" (a bag filled with toys to make up a story with) and we were off -- an hour later than what we were scheduled but it didn't matter. We made a super start to the day and had some fun of our own. Maggie learned where orange juice comes from and that two halfs make up one whole, that fresh squeezed has a slightly different colour to the bottled kind and most importantly -- the store bought kind with the added calcium just tasted better. Who'd have thought ...