An Adventure In Diapering

I was laying in bed with Fin, just doing pull ups, blowing bubbles, you know, baby stuff. When I heard the sound of mysterious happenings in her diaper. Is it a toot? The beginnings of a blowout? Just a normal dirty diaper, if such a thing exists? I pause, the only thing worse than a blowout is interrupting a blowout. And there it went again, and she even added a tiny grunt at the end for effect. Having had a bad experience that morning I picked her up and hurried to her room to change it before things got out of hand. As I walk into her room I flip on the lights and nothing happens. I reach for the pull on the fan, still nothing. The bulb is burned out. Strike One.
Now I had recently decided that it was just too bright in Finley's room and had covered all the windows so the only light in there was what filtered down the hall from the living room. I carefully weighed my options and decided that haste was in my favor. I began to change the diaper. There was an ominous little toot when I first started wiping but I did not heed the warnings. When the wipes seemed to be coming out clean I wrapped up the dirty diaper and reached in the drawer for a clean one... but, alas, there were none there. Strike Two.
I peered around the room and spotted them, just out of reach by the book case. I looked at Fin, who was happily playing with her toes, and holding one hand out by the changing table I dove for the diapers and leapt back. Once I had assessed that she had not managed to roll away in that unprotected second, I dug a diaper out of the new bag and tucked it under her. I flipped back the top of the diaper and... stared in horror. It had a long dark streak on it. Strike Three, OUT!
Finally realizing I was in over my head I rolled baby, changing pad, wipes and diapers all together and carried it into the living room. One look at the situation told me it was time to take a bath and make use of the advanced wash settings on my washer. I left her on the pad on the floor while I ran her water and this is what greeted me when I came to get her for her bath...

Those are the jeans that she had been wearing that are on her head. I'm just glad that her tushie is still on the pad or this post might have included a carpet cleaner.
So baby got a bath...

 And momma did a load of laundry and attempted to change the lightbulb, which is a whole other story involving a screwdriver, several stools, and moving large furniture.
Nathan, when I checked on him at the end of all this was blissfully unaware of any drama...

Get Your Goat

     The phrase "don't let them get your goat" has been running through my head today for some reason. It has really been a good day so I don't know what this thought has occurred to me today but here it is:

     A three year old is all about "getting your goat". It is their main joy in life to seek it out but the problem is that a toddler doesn't just "get" it, first he hits it with a spit wad, then once it takes off he lassos it, yanks it off its feet, hog ties it and then jumps up and down on its stomach gleefully yelling and waving his Woody hat. And once this has been accomplished, said toddler, has the nerve to look shocked and surprised at your reaction.

     With a four month old my goat is is a big open field with a sign that says "Sleeping Baby, Do Not Wake" and that is just too tempting, especially if I have had a sleepless night with her and need a nap to.

     But all is fair in love and war, of which this is both, and I am the only one who knows how to work the DVD player, or how to open the child safety locks on the cabinets with the snacks, so in the end I will triumph.

The Great Divide

     There are three major things I currently do with my life. It seems that everything fits in one of these categories:
Church
Children
Keeping House
   It sounds simple when I put it on paper but you all know that there is more to even one of those jobs than any full time job would allow. So on a daily basis I find myself feeling a bit guilty about neglecting one or the other of these things, or on really bad days I feel guilty about all of them. How do I escape the guilt trap?
     I am trying something new about the House part of things. I have set out a daily chore list that assumes I try to keep things picked up, do dishes etc. but gives me one more detailed task for the day. It has been a relief, at least for the first few days and I feel that my house is gradually getting cleaner each day. I still haven't decided what to do when something doesn't work out. For example on Saturday I clean the bathrooms, but there was too much going on here this Saturday for me to do more than one of the two. So do I catch up the next day? Do I wait another week? With something like dusting the living room missing a week is not that big of a deal, but bathrooms are another matter, especially with a preschool boy in the house. So a few kinks to work out but so far a success.
As far as my kids go things are a bit more difficult to parcel out. Their needs don't schedule as easily and if I miss a week it would be a big problem. Nathan wants me to play with him, read to him, color with him, admire his latest accomplishment, all great things to do together, but Finley needs to be fed, changed, put to sleep, held, and talked to. Most of Finley's needs are more immediately pressing than Nathans so he gets put off til she is asleep, and then the question is do I make lunch, or clean, or play with Nathan in the few moments I have. Heaven forbid I should decide to shower or do my hair, that stuff is right out. So the wise suggestion might be that they both tend to nap at the same time at least one out of four days, then I could clean, but...Mommys need naps too on occasion, I am up every two to four hours at night. But, I could go to bed earlier...
The conclusion I come to as I start to enter this vicious circle of logic is that what I need to do is survive, take care of myself, let my husband know I love him, let my children know I love them and hope that covers my multitude of wrongs. In the end even super mom is only human.

Space rangers don't go to time out, Mom.

Over all I would classify Nathan as a very well behaved three year old. A calm, passive three year old? No. He is active and has a terrible stubborn streak that drives me and his Father crazy. I keep telling myself, maybe he will be just as stubborn when it comes to peer pressure. I don't hold out much hope for that theory but sometimes it gets me through the day. My increasing girth has given him more opportunity than I like to skirt the edges of acceptable behavior and I worry that there will be quite a reckoning when things get back to "normal", at least as far as Mommy's reflexes go.

I do have some thoughts on the threes though:

1. It is called the "Horrible Threes" because of, in my opinion, the back and forth nature of preschooler logic. They will follow a rule with no question, listen to your requests and ask intelligent questions one minute only to have a complete melt down the next because, for example, you can't read that sign for them. The fact that you are driving down the highway at 70mph, are at least trying to watch the road and can't look at what they are pointing to has no bearing on their reality. They can not describe the color, associated pictures or buildings to give you any kind of clue about what they are talking about but you MUST tell them about it. It is kinda like living with a time bomb, a cute loveable time bomb that lulls you into a false sense of calm.

2. If you are a tired and cranky momma that cute things that they say when they are getting in trouble only amuse the rest of the audience.
For example,
Me: "If you don't stop that we will have to go to time out, Nathan."
Nathan: "Space rangers don't go to time out, mom." And having established the facts he continues to zoom around the room at church as all the folks with grandchildren give him the immense satisfaction of laughing as subtly as they can manage, which isn't very subtle at all, I might add.
To the woman who wrestled him into clothes, the car, and through the parking lot it just isn't nearly as cute. Daniel has a better sense of humor than I do and tells our space ranger that it is because they know better than to get in trouble.

3. They have learned the art of negotiation and compromise but have missed the vital part of this whole thing that means that sometimes the answer is still no. On the other hand at times it definitely works to your advantage since they also haven't got the best grasp on what constitutes an advantage.
Nathan:"I want a sandwich"
Me:"Sorry it's not lunch time yet"
Nathan, after some thought: "I can have two sandwiches?"
Me:"It's not lunch time yet, Nathan."
Nathan, wailing as he flops to the floor:"Two sandwiches!!!"
Or my favorite:
Me:"Pick up one block"
Nathan, whining:"I want to pick up two blocks!"
Me, after blinking and trying to find the catch here:"Okay, two blocks"
Nathan, very happy now:"Okay, two blocks!" and then he picked them up.

4. To sum it all up I would still have to say it is my favorite age so far because we have the most delightful conversations and he has such delightful insights about the world. From his pure prayers to his delight at being able to teach baby sister how to play with his cars when she "gets born" I love every minute of it and wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Crazy Dreams Betray Your Worries

So last night between the tossing, turning and trips to the bathroom I had one of those dreams that lets you know that you have been worrying about somethings even if you didn't know it.
In my dream I had gone in to deliver and when the baby was born they said told me it was a boy, and that the little girl we had been seeing on the sonograms hadn't dropped yet and we would have to stay there and wait in the hospital until she was ready to be delivered. So I am nine months pregnant, in the hospital with an infant who they are telling me that I am not allowed to feed because it could induce labor of the second child. I go back and look at some early sonograms that the hospital has that I didn't get and find out that Dr. Weigman (the one who delivered Nathan in Arlington, no idea why his name showed up here) had known that there were twins but hadn't said anything because that early, the sonogram was from about four weeks, and because of the position on the babies, there was not a good chance that both would survive. At the hospital they are keeping me on bed rest, hardly letting me see my child, and new people keep coming by to congratulate me but I keep having to explain the whole situation over and over to my confused visitors. After about two days in the hospital I decide that this second baby needs to come and I should be able to feed my baby if I want to, and since feeding is likely to induce labor I start trying to figure out how to breastfeed my new little boy, and about that time I woke up.
Analyze that if you dare!

Crazy Times: The count down truly begins.

Welcome to week 32! There are less than 8 weeks 'til my due date and I am starting to feel the pressure. Mental lists of all the things I need to get done before my sweet girl makes her arrival run through my head, not the least of which is to pick a name.
I get that question more than any other, and with those close to me it has become a big joke. The suggestions range from Kimmy to Jezebel and everything in between. And some I like, some aren't my cup of tea but how do you tell someone who's serious, as some of them are, that you really hate that name and wouldn't do that to your child?
Names seem to be such a determining factor in a childs life so there is a lot of pressure not to screw it up. If I name my child Sapphira am I condemning her to a life of doubt due to the only biblical mention of this name being in the context of disobedience and punishment by God? Or if I name her Sophia or Emily, top names in 2011, will she feel lost in the crowd?
So you want unique, but not crazy, meaningful, but not too weighty, it can't clash with the last name, and then you have a middle name too, check that the initials aren't a negative combination... and ta-da... you have a name for your baby, right?
Maybe I should go back to picking out curtains or something less important to my child's whole future and revisit this later?