Well, that scared the $#!t out of me

It all started around bedtime.  I was getting the girls ready for bed and noticed the only clean pajamas they had were winter ones.  Instead of dressing them up in shorts and their regular shirts, I decided to just let them wear one of my old t-shirts as a nightgown.


Did I mention they were old t-shirts?

After putting them down, I headed out to my baseball game.  I got back home around 11:30 and, as it usually happens, I was unable to go right to sleep.  I tossed and turned for quite some time, hearing every click of the house, but not really paying much attention to them.

At some point, Mama sat up and asked me if I heard that noise.  I listened, but as I had already been wide awake and hadn't heard anything, I dismissed it.

I saw the clock turn to 2 AM, and then drifted off shortly thereafter.

SUDDENLY, Mama sat up, inhaling sharply and loudly.

This brought me out of my new found sleep and wide awake with the adrenaline pumping.  I could see the direction she was looking as her eyes were cartoonish in their size, and reflecting the tiny bit of light coming from the nightlight in the bathroom.  There should have been more light, was my first thought.  The nightlight is pretty bright, and serves to light not only the bathroom, but the hallway as well.

As I turned my head to look where she was staring, I discovered why the light was dim.

This is eerily similar to what I saw.

There, hovering in the door, was a creature of some sort.  It had no feet, and was clutching what appeared to be the remains of two dead animals.  I couldn't make out a face, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.  The hovering led me to believe we had ourselves a ghost.  Perhaps it was the little girl who allegedly fell into a cistern and died somewhere on the property. Perhaps there were other stories I didn't know of.  Perhaps it didn't matter what it had once been, it only mattered what it was now and what it wanted.

My senses were heightened.  Muscles firing, waiting for the instructions on what to do next.  Pupils dilating, trying to see as much as possible in the dim room.  Sweat glands in overdrive, creating a slick surface on my body so nothing could grab hold of me.  Brain processing every possible move I could make to keep my family safe, or to distract the creature so they could all get to freedom.  Nose flaring in an attempt to pick up some clue from smell as to a weakness I could exploit.  Ears so tuned in I could hear the slightest breeze blowing through the corn in the garden.  Fight or flight was not an option, only fight.

The ghost said nothing.  It did nothing.  It had no smell.  I couldn't make out any more details of it.  It made not a sound.  The seconds turned into what felt like hours as we each waited for the other to make the first move. 

Then it began to moan.

"Mama startled me!"

was all it could state before it started crying and gliding toward me, Frankenstein style with arms outstretched, dead animals hanging limply from each hand.  It was obviously coming to claw my throat.

Just before I started chanting and trying to exorcise the evil spirit in the name of Jesus Christ, my brain changed paths, and took my body from red alert to no alert.  Somehow, while my brain was analyzing all possible scenarios, a part of it made a connection - the ghost was actually just Brynne.

Let's take another look at that picture of the girls before bed, but with a bit of editing.

With the minimal amount of light, the grey shirt was accented, while her feet were shaded.  Her hair in the picture appears to be cropped, but it was just tucked in.  When free to fall wherever it may, it covers about 2/3 of her torso, which blocked her face from sight.  The "dead animals" were actually Eeyore and a giraffe, which she has in bed with her.

After a quick conversation with Brynne, she went back to bed.  I then changed our sheets and my undies and laid back down.  Sleep would not come to meet me for another few hours, as my friend  adrenaline had to leave first.

Potty mouth

So I had a very interesting discussion with one of my little ladies last night.  She was walking around, in obvious need of some potty time, but not willing to do it.  Her words are in black, mine are in blue. 

Do you need to poop?

No, I pooped today.

Really?

No, I pooped last night.

Really?

No.

Do you want to try and poop?

No.

What if I tickled you until you pooped, would that be okay?

No.  It would get all over my pants, and we don't poop in our pants.

That is true.

And the carpet.  We don't want to get poop on the carpet.

Also true.

AND THERE ARE BOOKS ON THE CARPET!  THE POOP WOULD GET ALL OVER THE BOOKS!

Point taken, I won't tickle you.

AND RUBY'S TOYS ARE ON THE FLOOR!! WE DON'T WA  Who wants to play Hungry Hungry Hippos?

ME!


Hippos, the ultimate distraction.

I can't hear you, or anything else

Hadley usually does a good job of keeping her voice to a reasonable level.  In the middle of the night she'll whisper.  During the day she's at the normal level, unless she's trying to be heard over her sister.

Brynne, on the other hand, only seems to have one level.

Like Spinal Tap, Brynne turns it to 11, but she keeps it there.

She can walk up to me and request the most mundane thing.  If she happens to be right in front of me when she speaks I feel as though my hair is being blown back.

We very nearly lost a 50 year old oak tree when Brynne spoke at it.

I wasn't surprised the other day when she informed me about something she had just done.

"Me went poop on the potty!"

It just might have been more appropriate to use her quiet voice at this particular point - seeing as wee had about a dozen people over at the time and I was standing in the middle of them.

Oh well.  At least she wasn't cursing.

Haunted House?

Early this morning, at about 4:30 AM, I was roused from a wonderful dream by Hadley's voice coming through the toddler monitor.  Calling it a baby monitor just isn't appropriate as they are now "big girls".  She let me know she had to go potty.  I stumbled into her room, half awake, scooped her up, and headed to her "big girl potty" in her bathroom. 

When I scoop her up in the middle of the night she is almost always overly clingy.  Maybe she's cold, or maybe she just wants to be close in the dark.  Either way, she's like a little backpack hanging on the front of me with her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

As I carried her in front of me I was suddenly stopped.  Actually, I was bounced back a bit and almost fell.  I wasn't initially sure what was going on.  In my semi-conscious state I assumed my progress was being halted by a supernatural force.  Some evil spirit or sinister demon was preventing me from taking her to the potty.  I imagined this mean spirited poltergeist was trying to get me soaked with urine.

Vomit is worse than urine.  I can attest to that.

I reached my free hand out to see if I could push through the resistance that way.  I could not.

The apparition was unlike anything I'd ever heard or read about.  It was solid.  It was everywhere in front of me, blocking my progress.  It was also smooth.  Almost too smooth.  I couldn't feel any difference no matter where I moved my hand.  No lumps.  No cracks.  Not even a wrinkle.  The resistance was the same no matter where I touched.

Then, my hand brushed against something that was different.

It was small and round.  It fit into my hand very easily.  It felt familiar.

Had I grabbed a hold of this handle I think I would have soiled myself.

And why shouldn't it?  It was a doorknob.  I shut the door to their bathroom earlier in the night, something I don't ever do - obviously for good reason.

There was no unexpected visitor, but I had managed to soften the blow of walking into a door in the middle of the night by using a Hadley bumper.  Poor girl got squished between me and the door.

"Sorry for running you into the door, Hadley.  I didn't realize it was shut."

Her reply:

"That's OK, Papa.  You didn't mean to.  I'm fine."

I wasn't expectng that

Potty training has been going surprisingly well.  We've had very few accidents the past few days.  Actually, almost every time the girls need to go they tell us and head in to do their business.

There are some exceptions. 

This is the portable potty, which we discovered we need to take with us wherever we go as one of our darlings refuses to sit on the big girl potty.

Our innocent little ones seem to now have a strong grasp of what it means to stall.  At night, as they go to bed, they suddenly have the urge to potty. 

I lay them in their beds and as soon as I leave the room, I hear them calling

Papa!  I want to potty!

If I don't go in and let them try, they'll wet the bed, just to spite me.  If I do let them try, they'll sit on the potty for as long as I let them, smirking at me the whole time.  As soon as they say they are done, even though they haven't done anything, I'll put them back in bed, only to hear them once again say

Papa!  I want to potty!

Even if they just went potty, they'll exclaim their desire to go.

Last night was no exception. 

Twenty minutes into the process of trying to get them to go to sleep I had already taken them to the potty four times.  Neither of them had done anything, but why would they, they'd just peed minutes before bed.

Hadley was on the big girl potty while Brynne was on the portable one.  Neither of them doing anything other than sitting there, staying awake.

Then it happened.

We'd been having thunder and lightning for a few hours, and they don't get scared by it.  The brightest flash of lightning I have seen since I saw lightning hit a tree hundreds of yards in front of me a few years ago, lit up the entire world, or so it seemed.  Seconds later, thunder shook my insides. 

Almost immediately, two little girls were off their potties, scooting toward me as fast as they could with their underwear around their ankles.  I was equidistant from them as they started and they crashed into me at the exact same time. 

I was expecting shaking and crying, perhaps a desire to be held while the storm passed, but I was greeted instead by them both saying the exact same thing as I pulled up their drawers and scooped them up:

Papa, I need to go to bed now.

I took them into bed, laid them down, kissed them goodnight, walked out of the room, and they slept the rest of the night.

I'm seriously considering making a DVD of thunder and cranking the surround sound every night they fight going to bed.

Changing the lyrics to fit my needs

OPP, how can I explain it
I'll take you frame by frame it
To have y'all jumpin' shall we be signin' it
O is for Only, P is for Pee/Poop scratchin' temple
The last P...well...that's not so simple
It's sorta like another way to call an outhouse a toilet
It's five little letters that are missin', see it
You sit on it on occasion when you're doing all your trainin'
It seems I need to start the explainin'
Bust it

You know the feelin' when you really just gotta go
And so you sit right down but nothin' at all will flow
You run to potty and sit there but nothin' comes on out
Then you stand up and spray around just like a water spout
It could come from the F to the R to the O to the N to the T
And when that happens it's what we like to call pee pee
But then at times it comes out from the other side
And when that happens all you do is try to run and hide
You leave a "big ole mess" right there in your underwear
And at this point your screaming cause you just don't care

You down with OPP
Only Pee/Poop on the Potty
You down with OPP
No, not really
You down with OPP
Not necessarily
Who's down with OPP
Workin' on Brynne and Hadley

We pump you full of liquids and all the fiber we can
Starting this week we had ourselves a great idea and plan
This three day potty training thing is supposed to work
We follow you around, you might even say we lurk
We need to catch you before you go in you drawers
Because we know it will end up on our nice wood floors
Please little ladies I really wish you would get it down
So Mama's not stuck in the house and can go to town
We hope very soon you will be able to give us hints
Until then we only pray for strength, wisdom, and patience.

You down with OPP
Only Pee/Poop on the Potty
You down with OPP
No, not really
You down with OPP
Not necessarily
Who's down with OPP
Workin' on Brynne and Hadley

So far, potty training sucks.

First failure

I thought I'd share my first failure as a father today.  Quick story.  Hope you enjoy.

The first time I was feeding Brynne was within 12 hours of her being born.  The nurse came in while I was holding Brynne and told us we needed to feed them.  She gave me a four pack of formula, instructed me on which nipple I should use, and then directed me to give her two.

I looked at the four ounce bottle, thought it seemed like a lot of food for a newborn, but started the feeding process. 

I can't possibly tell you everything that was going through my mind, but I was a little overwhelmed.  It was such a blessing to be able to feed my daughter.

Brynne took down the first bottle eagerly.  I removed the nipple, put it on the second bottle, shook it well, and resumed the bonding/feeding. 

She got through about three ounces and then stopped.  I tried to encourage her to eat more, but she was not having it. 

Since I'd never read anything about feeding, and had no clue what I was supposed to do, I decided to do the only thing I had ever seen on TV or in the movies - I burped her. 

As I held her to my shoulder and patted her back, she unleashed a glorious burp.  I thought I was done and felt pleased I could help.  I held her up to look at her...

then she threw up.

Not a little.  This was a large vomit.  Fortunately, I had a blanket on me which caught everything.

The nurse came back in as I was cleaning up and seemed surprised at the amount of vomit she produced. 

The nurse asked how much I gave her.  I sheepishly admitted she hadn't finished the two bottles.  I asked if I should try again or wait.  I failed in my first fatherly duty.

The nurse looked a little shocked.

I didn't understand why she looked so appalled.

As she went on to explain, I was supposed to give her two OUNCES of formula, not two BOTTLES.

I wanted to smack the nurse.  Instead of doing that, I merely asked her to be a little more specific in the future when giving instructions to me or any other new parent. 

I don't think I can take all the blame for this failure.  Actually, I think I can take very little responsibility for this, but since I failed to ask a question, I suppose some of it falls to me.

Now I get it

Someone has replaced my girls' noses with faucets.  All they do is drip snot - constantly.  I got to spend a few days with them while Mama was out modeling and now I finally understand so many things I never used to get.

You might say I had an "a-ha" moment.

Since I love a list, as you know if you've read any amount of my "writing", I thought I'd share my new found wisdom via one here.

Things I now understand:

1 - Why my grandma always had Kleenex in her pocket/purse/car. 

The opening paragraph should make this one easy to see.  We have something to wipe a drippy nose in every room of the house.  From Kleenex, to paper towels, to toilet paper.  I think we have it covered. 

For those times when something is not handy, I will use my shirt.  I wear old shirts around the house, and it's sometimes easier to use it than to leave them alone when I know all they'll do is wipe their nose with their sleeve and spread snot across their face the second I turn around.  Snot on a face is not too difficult to remove, unless their hair gets caught in it.  Then it becomes a little more challenging - unless you have Boogie Wipes handy.

At some point I'll teach my girls how to farmer blow so they won't need to carry something around with them, but it's probably a bit early for that now.  Besides, I think their mother would shoot me.  For now, all I can do is carry some wiping tool in my own pockets.  I just need to remember to take them out before throwing the pants in the laundry.  Julia just loves opening the dryer to find little bits of paper towel scattered throughout the load.

2 - Why a mother's purses is so large.

We each have a diaper bag, but they aren't always convenient to carry around.  Mine is actually a specially designed backpack.  Sounds cool and fancy, but it's not.  It's just a backpack with spots for everything I might need for the kiddos.

Mama's is a huge bag with room for three of everything you might need.  As the girls get older and we realize we don't need to carry the proper gear for every circumstance we may encounter, Mama's diaper bag and purse have been combined.  She's not carrying the traditional purse, though.  Her "diaper bag purse combo" is merely a converted cloth shopping bag we used to use for groceries. 

If this had a shoulder strap, my grandma would've carried it around.

It holds all the essentials for her, as well as the basics for the girls, and has room leftover to hold a few items in case an impromptu shopping trip occurs.  I doubt she'll ever make the switch entirely to a huge purse, so this is her way of being stylishly practical.

3 - Why certain phrases are staples of a parent's vocabulary

There are certain phrases I heard as a child, and others I have since heard from other parents.  I didn't think I'd use them until I heard myself say them.

"You'll just have to entertain yourself for a little while".  "Not right now".  "We can do that later, but for now you need to _______".  "Because I said so".  "Shut up or I'll give you something to cry about!"  This last one I only say in jest and quiet enough so only Mama can hear.

These are just a few examples, but I'm sure you get the picture.  When I was little I thought my parents were being horribly unfair.  If I wanted to eat a cookie and chug a soda right before bed I should be allowed to do that.  After all, I was eight years old and could handle it.

Now, I realize these phrases come from nowhere in particular.  I'm not being mean when I say them, I don't even realize what I'm saying.  They are just a reflex.  That reflex occurs because if I truly said what I was thinking at that moment in time, I'd end up with a huge bill from some therapist later in their life.

Three is a short list, but since I expounded on everything more than I planned on, I'll just save the others for later.  I get to do that because I'm the parent and you're not.

Is it opposite day or is it just me?

I've recently written about a poor experience I had with pain medication and muscle relaxers.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized my troubles are not limited to the heavier drugs.

If you've read any amount of my "work", you already realize I am slightly insane - or at least teetering on the brink.  My mind works in mysterious ways.  My body does too, though I'm not sure if it is mind over matter or matter over mind in this case.

Maybe I just need to be more laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

I used to read the possible side effects of medications before I took them, just to see what wasn't in store for me.  Sounds strange, doesn't it?  It seemed like I would always get something they didn't list as a possibility.  Or I would get the exact opposite of what they did warn me about.  I've never had anal leakage (fecal incontinence if you prefer), death, blindness, or anything too severe, but I always get something.

Most of what I get is just irritating.  Sometimes, it is slightly more than that.

Need an example?  I'm so glad you asked.

Let's suppose I have a prescription which warns about the possibility of dry mouth.  My side effect is slobbering and drooling.

Constipation equals me tied to a toilet.

Loose bowel warnings tell me to avoid cheese as I'll be blocked up for a week.

Fluid retention means I'm dehydrated.

Increased appetite results in a hunger strike.

Getting the picture?

I stopped reading the labels to see if my mind was causing me to suffer or if my body was acting on its own.  As luck would have it, I still don't know the answer.  Something is messed up, but neither my body nor my brain seem to be the clear cause. 

So...how exactly do you contact them if you're dead?

Perhaps the most frustrating example has to do with drowsiness.  The non-drowsy cold medicines wire me up and my brain shoots to crazy places.  The coma-inducing ones do the same thing, but to an even greater extent.  Unless, of course, I take it at work.  Then I zone out.  

Even sleeping pills are no match for me.  Roughly half of the time a sleeping pill will put me to sleep, only for me to wake up in five or six hours, with a rocking headache.  The other half of the time I will lay in bed until the sun comes up, or at least until I can't stand being alone with my own thoughts any more.  Pretty much a lose-lose scenario.

I guess the one good thing about lying in bed wide awake all night is I at least get ideas for posts.

Spine tingling night

Pretty much the only thing that scares me at this point in my life is something bad happening to my family - or so I thought.

I discovered another "thing" last week.

This is It...Stephen King's It to be exact. This It is not the thing I'm scared of. 

Here's the scenario:

It was Mama's turn to go to our community group from church, so I stayed home with the girls and put them down.  That doesn't scare me, anymore, but I still won't do bath time alone.

Normally, the girls pick up all their toys before bed, but since they weren't feeling that well I allowed them to just go to bed without cleaning up.  They went down and I went to work.

The mess wasn't that bad, so I had it all put away in about five minutes.  The last thing I did was toss a small ball into the toy bin. 

Thirty seconds later, a toy sitting a foot away from the ball bin made a noise.  This is a brand new toy.  The batteries are new so you can't put any blame there.  I looked at it for a second, decided something must have jostled it somehow, and turned to go get a drink.

"Bye-bye"

That's what the little dinosaur said to me.

I froze.  I was waiting for Chucky to come slice me up.  Ever so slowly I turned around and stared at the toy.  It wasn't smiling, glowing, or doing some spinning head thing.  I'm pretty sure the toy doesn't have that word in its vocabulary, so I was a little bit freaked. 

Good old Chucky

Justification sets in.  I decided since we haven't had it more than two days, I just wasn't familiar with the sounds it made.  After standing there for a minute I went back to get my drink.

"Bye- Bye"

I nearly crapped my pants. 

Within two seconds there was some metallic clanking sound coming from the other room.  I moved quickly to see if the dogs were messing with something, but they were both sleeping, and the noise stopped as I entered that room.

At this point, the hair on my arms and back of my neck is standing up.  My heart is thumping so loudly I can feel it and hear it.  Adrenaline is racing through my body.  I'm starting to shake as I fight the urge to run screaming from the house.  I want to look in the room with the dogs, but I don't want to take my eyes off that creepy little dinosaur thing. 

My girls are going to sleep in the next room, I need to protect them.  Should I put the toy in the freezer?  Maybe just set it outside?  Will handling it just piss it off?  Will I need an oven mitt to handle it?  Maybe the prongs from the fireplace tools?  Maybe I should just leave it alone unless it does it again.

I decided no action was the best course of action at that point.  I was still concerned my house might be possessed, or at least this new toy was.  There was only one thing I could think to do.

I may have uttered the following words:

In the name of Jesus Christ my personal Lord and Savior I command you evil spirits to leave this house!

I've seen the exorcist, and I know this might not always work, but it made me feel better - as did those drinks I finally got to have.  The dinosaur has not uttered any unprovoked words yet, so maybe I'm onto something.  The voices have stopped.

At least the ones outside my head.

Merry Christmas!  Enjoy your new toys and their demons!!

Professor Papa - Part 6

Here we are once again where I tell you something good I've taught the girls, and something bad. 

The good - spitting

Why is spitting good?  Because we've all had some sort of sinus and chest congestion thing going on for the last seven weeks.  Most of the time it's been - "productive", for lack of a better term. 

I've tried to teach the girls to expel anything they bring up instead of swallowing it back down.  It might sound gross, but I know how much production there has been around here so we need to make sure their bellies have enough room for food.

I won't bore you with all the details, but we've made some partial progress.

While they still don't hack anything up (and out), they do a fairly good "spit" sound.

Anytime, and I do mean anytime, someone as much as coughs at our house you will hear each of the girls say "tah", which, of course, is the spitting sound.  It might be one quick cough or a good bout of deep coughs, but it will be followed by "tah".

As I sit here writing, the girls are asleep.  They're in the middle of a very good nap and I have heard no sound for over two hours.  Hadley just coughed twice.  Seconds later, I hear Brynne, brought back to consciousness by her uncanny sense of comedic timing, says "tah".  They each giggle a bit and go back to sleep.

The bad - nothing

While I do my best to corrupt them, they have somehow managed NOT to pick up any bad habits or actions.  Oh well, better luck for me next week.

On second thought, maybe walking around spitting, or at least making the sound, is bad enough for now.

New adventures with Papa

Mama had her first sick day on Monday, as you may have read.

The girls and I spent an entire day together while Mama slept and recovered.  Here are a few new things they did.  Some of them are entirely new, while some of them are just new to me. 

We had a blast so I thought I'd share.

Folding the laundry - the girls worked on folding towels.  Mostly, this means I would show them how to do it and they would them destroy my work.  By the end of the allotted laundry time Hadley had folded a washcloth into a semi-square while Brynne kind of balled it up - they both looked roughly accurate so we put them away as they were.

Brynne does her own thing; Hadley at least watches me.

Putting the laundry away - Hadley would bring me a hanger, on which I would hang their clothes, and then she would put it in the closet.  At first, this meant putting it on the floor, but she soon learned how to hang them up and it went well.  Brynne, meanwhile, was in charge of the dresser.  I gave her a stack of folded pants.  She would then open the appropriate drawer, cram in the pants, and close the drawer before repeating the process a dozen times.  Some of the pants needed to be refolded, but for the most part they went in as she put them.  I only did some touch up work when the drawer wouldn't close.

Hadley perfecting her hanging skills

Why yes, that is a roll of tape in my mouth.  Why do you ask?

Not perfect, but not bad for under two.

Meals - The girls had lost some of their appetite recently and we've blamed it on the medicine.  They found it.  Breakfast was two pieces of PB and honey toast, two more pieces of cinnamon toast, half a banana, and two eggs.  That was just the solids!  They also had milk and OJ in large amounts.  Lunch and dinner were different foods, but the quantity was about the same.

Nap time - I have struggled with knowing when to put them down in the past.  Hadley helped me out on this one.  Brynne was trying to climb the stairs up from the basement and had managed to distract me while Hadley read a book.  When I got her under control, I looked over to find Hadley lying on the floor reading her book.  I called her name and she didn't reply.  I went to her and found her "resting her eyes" as my Grandma Jenkins used to say - that's the grandma they share a birthday with, so it works.  Pretty much, she fell asleep and wasn't in her crib or car seat - a first!

Couldn't get the pic before she woke up, but this is close

In case she hadn't made her point clear she made another move.  I came back to the changing room after putting Brynne down to find Hadley trying to put a swim diaper on over her other diaper.  Either she was: sleepy and confused as to what she needed to wear; ready for a dip in the pool on a 50 degree day; or alerting me that she had too much to drink.  As it turns out, the first and the third possibilities above were true.

Playing - Both the girls enjoyed rides in my old office chair around the basement.  Not too exciting for us old people, but for them it was a thrill. 

Not everything was good.  Hadley did manage to take a header off the couch and landed face first on the wood floor.  A few tears later she was fine.  Had it been Brynne, I'm sure we'd be looking at another black eye, but apparently Hadley has a little thicker skin.  Fortunately, landing on her head is probably about as safe as landing on her feet.

I also caught Brynne with one leg over the back of the couch trying to make it to the puppy dogs home.  She didn't get to them, but not for lack of trying.

Time to get back to work so I can catch up on a little R&R.

Looks like we'll need a bigger house

We (and when I use "we" I am mostly referring to myself) have been so fortunate since the girls were born.  Julia has not been sick one time.  Sure, she gets the occassional sniffle or cough, but nothing that has kept her down for long.

That all changed Sunday night. 

She had been feeling a little "off" over the weekend, but nothing major.  Then Sunday night came and brought with it some stomach pains.  No announcement here.  She's not pregnant and I doubt I'd be announcing it to the world through my blog anyway.  In case you are new to me, I am a fan of misdirection, so I hope the title threw you off a bit.

Lesson here for anyone willing to hear it - be careful what you wish for.

Julia was sitting on the bed and said "I wish I would just throw up so I'd feel better".

Hadley then started coughing in her crib.  I went to get her since it sounded like a cough that might lead to vomitting.  I got her halfway to the cool night air (in an effort to let the coldness ease her breathing and stop the coughing fit) when she let loose a spray of milk, medicine, and spinach artichoke dip.

Looks the same coming out as it does going in

Thankfully, most of it ended up on me.  What wasn't on me was quickly cleaned by the dogs.  After we spent some time outside and she was breathing more normally I took her back in to clean her up.  She sat with Mama for a minute while I dug up some clean clothes.

As I returned to our room Hadley was sitting alone on the bed.  I couldn't smell the vomit on her, but Mama did.  The smell was strong enough to grant her wish.

A variation of the last post about me being sick

I have always appreciated how much she does for the girls during the day, but I never had to swap places with her before.  Man, it is not easy.

Sure, I was operating on only four hours sleep and had a list of things to do while the girls took their afternoon nap so I couldn't rest then, but what a day it was. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved hanging out with my girls.  Mama, apparently, has mastered the ability to let the girls play on their own and even encourages it.  I, however, was their constant source on entertainment.  They always had a book for me to read - eight or nine times in a row - or a toy to play with (and sometimes I was their big toy) or steps to keep them from climbing.

We would play for an hour.  Then I would check the clock and see only fifteen minutes had passed.  I swear the sun set and rose twice between breakfast and lunch.

Good old Flavor Flav

I made a mental list of all the things they did and shared them with Julia.  Of course, she had already seen most all of these things, but there were a few new ones. More to come on that Friday.

The worst part was the weather.  It was rainy and dreary outside so we couldn't even go to the park or a tennis court.

I can only wish the next time this day comes, and I am sure it will, the weather is a little more cooperative.

Is there no end to a toddler's supply of snot?

I am NOT a fan of bows.  Hair bows, that is.  I have nothing against wrapping a present nicely.

There is one exception.

I will use them to keep hair off the girls' faces when their noses are little snot faucets.


Brynne with her arm around her imaginary friend.

 

Hadley, at 6 AM, giving the sign for sleep.

Now, I encourage their usage when the snot faucets are going full blast at 6 AM, Mama is out for a run, and I need to brush caked on snot out of their hair.

We don't waste food in this house

Most of the time my girls are very good eaters.


They do have their own plates, we don't make them share like this.

Some of the time they get into a little funk - like when they're either tired or not feeling well.

In these instances, they really seem to enjoy putting the food in their mouths, chewing it up, and then spitting it back out.  Often, this includes raking it out of their mouths with their fingers.

If they aren't listening to my verbal instructions, I have to act. 

Step 1 - Prevent the food from escaping by holding my hand over their mouths. 

Results - Not good: choking; gagging; biting of Papa's fingers; and, ultimately, the food comes back out.

Step 2 - Pile the semi-chewed food up on their tray and see if they will go back for it.

Results - Brynne has never touched her food using this method.  Hadley will consume it about half the time.

Step 3 - Modify the spit covered glob of food.  This can be accomplished by: hiding it in another bite of something; removing it from the plate, putting it back on a fork, and hoping they don't notice; or smothering it in BBQ sauce.

Results - The odds of Hadley eating it stays at 50%, but jumps to 75% when BBQ sauce is utilized.  The only way Brynne will go for it is if BBQ sauce is involved.  Even then, she will still spit it out half the time.  Once she realizes what I've done, she won't touch anything with BBQ sauce for the rest of the meal. 

Smart kid. 

Step 4 (aka the last hope) - Show them how yummy the meal is by eating it myself. 

Results - This never works.  I will continue to try, though. It might work at some point in the future. 

I'm kidding myself.  I know it will never work, but I continue to clean up after them as Julia is a wonderful cook and I hate to see the food go to waste.  The leftovers that used to end up as my lunches later in the week have now become the girls' meals. 

I'm ok with that.  I'm also not grossed out by anything.

If this is the only way I can get my leftovers, then so be it.  Better me than the dogs.

Croup

(Sung to the beat of Shoop, from Salt-n-Pepa)



Here they go, here they go, here they go again
Girls, what's your weakness? Coughin

Ok then,

chillin', chillin', mindin' my business
I heard the monitor and I couldn't believe this
I swear, I stared, Julia my witness

My girls were coughing kinda
Wicked, wicked, have to kick it

I'm not shy so I gave them some benadryl

A doctor? No, that don't make me
We need sleep so I dose them swiftly

Croup, croup ba-doop
Croup ba-doop
Croup ba-doop ba-doop ba-doop

Don't want no croup, baby.

Too late.  Both girls have it. 

You can stop singing now. 

Nights are awful.  Cool air humidifier, steamy shower, walks in the cold night air, ibuprofen, benadryl, honey elixir - none of these are working. 

Waking up (assuming they actually got some sleep) with their hair stuck to the snot that's drained from them overnight can't be much fun. 



At least we have Boogie wipes for this.  These have a magical formula that destroys dried snot on contact...more potent than regular wipes, Formula 409, or straight bleach.

Vacation, all I ever wanted. Vacation, time to get away

So our first official family vacation took place this last week.  All in all, it was a great time, though we did get off to a rocky start.  Let's walk through the list of what happened.

1 - Thanks to hurricane/tropical storm/tropical depression Lee, we had a little longer trip on the way out.  Our flight was delayed about an hour, and we only found out about it once we were at the gate. 

2 - When we finally boarded we discovered the plane was full, so we did not get to sit together.  Even though we booked  our seats (a window and an aisle seat) in the same row.  Since the girls were on our laps and each set of three seats only has four oxygen masks, Hadley and I were forced to move up a row. 

3 - We were nearing the end of our flight and the girls were nearing the end of their patience - not to mention their snacks/books/moving the tray up and down. The captain came on the PA and informed us that we were going to have to circle the airport for 25 minutes until we were cleared to land.  Not exactly what we wanted to hear.  Fortunately, five minutes later we were cleared.

4 - After landing, we had to wait for a gate to open up.  Then, since we were in the back of the plane, we had to wait for everyone else to take their sweet time unloading.  Finally, we were free.

5 - We went to the rental car lot and were given our car after a modest wait.  The girls had been travelling for five hours and were ready to be done.  Mama walked with them while I got the vehicle.  We discovered it was too small to hold us and our luggage.  Fortunately, they had larger SUVs so we were able to take one - for a few dollars more.



6 - The rental car seats were crap - utter crap.  The girls may have been safer just sitting in a cardboard box on the hood.  We wanted rear facing ones and they claimed to be such.  They did not, however, have all of the appropriate connectors and straps to install properly.  For the first time ever our girls rode facing forward.  They seemed to love it.  We loved being able to look back at them and see what was going on, but it just isn't as safe for them at their size.

7 - We got to our dinner location about two hours later than I had planned.  Since we were so delayed, we decided to feed the girls in transit some blueberries we brought with us for snacks.  They were starving, apparently, and gobbled them all down.  In the middle of the night, Brynne's stomach decided it didn't want them in there anymore and she expelled them.  At 3 AM I got her up, we cleaned the vomit off her, changed her to a new sleep sack, replaced her bedding (with towels since I didn't pack back-up bedding), and put her back down as she seemed empty.

8 - Less than 30 minuted later she needed new towels.  She was reenacting her Papa's trip from a few weeks ago, so Mama laid in bed with her.  Hadley was not happy about her sister getting more attention than she did, so I took her to sleep with me.  This was the first time either of them had slept a good part of the night with us.  Everyone (except me) slept pretty well.  Once again I was a chicken and feared I would either roll over her or let her roll off the bed, so I remained awake.  Even if that fear wouldn't have been there, she is a very active sleeper, apparently, and if I got close to sleep she would kick me, roll over on me, or put her head right on my windpipe to constrict my breathing.

This may seem bad, but this is all that went wrong.  Five days away from home, and this is all we had to endure.  Our girls did a wonderful job in adapting to whatever was thrown their way.

Now that the bad stuff is out of the way I can move on to all the great things we did.

Got Milk?

Let's do some math.  There are 64 ounces of milk in a half gallon.  If I drink an eight ounce glass with breakfast and Julia has about the same amount in her coffee, how much milk must each of the girls drink to go through the entire half gallon each and every day?

Stop looking for a calculator - it's 24 ounces each.

If you got your calculator, just to double check my math, you should find that I'm correct.  While sign language may not be my strong suit, numbers are.

 Math IS fun, so let's do some more. 

Each day, the girls have on average six wet diapers.  The diaper I change first thing in the morning usually holds about 12 ounces of urine.  Their clothing holds another four ounces.  The sleep sack catches two more.  That's 18 ounces of urine in the first change. 

Put the calculator away, please?

This leaves six ounces of milk unaccounted for, but with five other diaper changes yet to be considered.  This is where the math stops adding up.  Yes, I did just put a horrible pun in here.

Each of those five diapers has more than one ounce in them.  Where does this come from?

The obvious answer is other items they consume that have liquids.  On some days they get orange juice or water, so that makes up some of the shortage.  Fruits, vegetables, and BBQ sauce (sometimes the only way they'll eat an item is when it is doused with Bone Suckin Sauce) make up some more of it.

There are still fluids unaccounted for!!  Are they losing water weight each and every day??  Their skin looks healthy, so I can cross that fear off my list.

The truth is, they subsidize their intake with water from their pool or the tub.

There is nothing more beautiful in life than watching both of your girls "make water" in the tub (aka pee), grab something that holds liquids, and then re-ingest some of their homemade "water". 

Often, the new concoction contains water, urine, and soap.  YUMMY!!!

I'm not a chemist, but I am pretty sure the following equation is true, so I'm not too disgusted.

                                Soap + Urine = Clean Water 

I think it's great that they're learning how to use a cup on their own AND we don't have a huge mess to clean up.  I think it is NOT great when they are drinking their own filth. 

 In a third world country there may be no other option but to drink your own (and often anyone or any animal that happens to be upstream from you) urine, but here at home, thankfully, there is.

So how do we stop this despicable practice?  Simple.  Remove anything from the tub or pool that can be used as a drinking utensil.  The only thing we couldn't remove was the wash cloth, which counts as a drinking utensil.  Since the primary function of the cloth is more important than the other uses, we decided to leave it in the tub.  We do, however, have a protocol for usage:

1. It goes into the tub only when we are ready to use it.
2. If it is confiscated by toddlers, we try to take it away (using other toys as distractions) or at least wring it out before it can be used inappropriately.
3. We remove it from the tub as soon as the washing stage is complete. 

By following these simple steps, you too can live a life free of botulism, cholera, dysentery, and typhoid fever. 

Maybe that is a little over-dramatic, but at least you can stop watching your children drink their own pee.