Stuck Under a Baby

Tag: toddler

  • Mama Foofed!

    My daughter, Bear, had quite a vocabulary by 17 months of age.  At 17 1/2 months, she was trying to put two words together, but they were often separated by a very large pause as she tried to connect the two ideas in her head.

    One evening a few weeks ago, I took Bear upstairs to put her to bed.  I decided that it would be best to go to the bathroom before getting stuck under a baby for the next hour or so.  I happened to, well, um, pass some gas, which my family has given the endearing term “foofing.”  It wasn’t a remarkable foof (rhymes with hoof) or anything – just your average, every day, run of the mill foof.

    Bear giggled.  “Foof!” she exclaimed.  And she laughed some more.  “Mama!”

    “Yes, honey, Mama foofed.  Excuse me.”

    “Foof… … … Mama… … … Mama… … … Foof… … … Foof… … … Mama… … … Foof.”

    “Yes, Bear, Mama foofed.”

    “Mama… Foof.  Foof.  Foof.  Mama… Foof.”

    “I know, love.  Mama foofed.”

    “Mama foof!”

    Her first true sentence.

    “Mama foof!  Mama foof!  Mama foof!”

    “Yeah, I know.  Mama foofed.  That’s enough now.  Time for bed.”

    2013-03-17 Mama foofI brought her into the bedroom and began nursing her down for the night.  She got drowsy and I thought that she was nearing sleep.  All of a sudden, she popped off, sat up, and yelled, “MAMA FOOF!”

    She was so proud.

    ******************

    Note: Since that day, Bear has made sure to report everyone’s foofs – mine, her Papa’s, Monkey’s, and even her own.  No one can escape.  And it is now impossible to blame your foof on the baby.  Perhaps we should reconsider getting a dog…

     

  • Why We Need a Dog

     

    I think we need a dog.

    I love dogs, but I don’t want a dog… not now, anyway.

    I don’t want to take care of a dog.

    I don’t want to walk a dog, feed a dog, or clean up after a dog.

    I JUST want a dog to clean my floor after dinner.

     

  • If My Kid Could Vote for President…

    Mama: They’re talking about voting.  Soon, we get to vote to see who is our president for the next four years.

    Monkey (3.5 years old): I want to vote too.

    Mama: That’s wonderful!  Unfortunately, you have to be 18 to vote, but you can help me when I vote!

    Monkey: No!  My own vote!  I want to vote for MY president.

    Mama: And rightly so, but you’ll have to do it with me this year.  Who would you like to vote for?

    Monkey: The other guy.

    Mama: Well, which guy do you mean?  The one who is already president or the one running against him?

    Monkey: Hmmm… Who are you voting for?

    Mama: Well, I’m voting for the person with whom I agree more and who I think has good ideas.

    Monkey: Why? Is the other guy a bad guy?

    Mama: [long pause] No, not a bad guy… just has different ideas that go against some of the things I believe in.  Do you want me to show you pictures of the two guys?

    Monkey: Okay.

    Mama: Okay.  Here’s Mitt Romney.  And here’s Barack Obama – he’s president now and Mitt Romney wants to be president.  They both want the same job, but only one guy can have it.

    Monkey: Was Mitt Romney the president before Barack Obama?

    Mama: No, a man named George W. Bush was.

    Monkey: Was he a bad man?

    Mama: Um… here, let me show you a picture of him.  But he can’t be president again so we have to choose between Barack Obama and Mitt Romney this time.

    Monkey: Oh, okay.

    Mama: So, do you want to ask me any questions about them or do you know who you’re going to vote for?

    Monkey: I know who I want to vote for.

    Mama: Who?

    Monkey: Pizza.

    Mama: Pizza?

    Monkey: Pizza.

    Mama: You want pizza to be our president?

    Monkey: Yep.  I think that’s the best choice.

     

  • Musical Beds: Adventures in Co-Sleeping

    Musical Beds: Adventures in Co-Sleeping

    We are a co-sleeping family.  It’s completely wonderful and miserable at the same time.  Long gone are the days of spooning with my husband.  Long gone are the days of rolling over.  Long gone are the days of getting up to pee without waking everyone else in the house.

    I’ve seen many an image of moms and babes cuddled up in blissful slumber and oh so sweet photos of dads and toddlers all snuggled up peacefully dreaming together.  In reality, in MY reality at least, it doesn’t usually look like that, especially since I have children who have never, in three and a half years, ever slept through the night.

    At home, we have a king-sized bed with an adjacent unused toddler bed.  Our nights usually end up with a few shifts in positions and snuggle partners; however, while visiting my in-laws this week, THIS is what happened.  Warning: Do not try this at home.

    The Game:

    Musical Beds

    The Playing Field:

    One queen-sized bed
    One twin-sized air mattress on the floor at the foot of the queen-sized bed

    The Players:

    Mama (Me)
    Papa (My hubby)
    Monkey (our 3.5 year old son)
    Bear (our 1 year old daughter)

    Round 1:

    Mama and Bear in big bed.

    Round 2:

    Bear in big bed.  (Mama in the bathroom.)
    Papa and Monkey in little bed.

    Round 3:

    Papa and Bear in big bed.
    Mama and Monkey in little bed.

    Round 4:

    Mama, Papa, and Bear in big bed.
    Monkey in little bed.

    Round 5:

    Papa, Monkey, and Bear in big bed.
    Mama in little bed.

    Round 6:

    Papa and Monkey in big bed.
    Mama and Bear in little bed.

    Round 7:

    Mama and Monkey in big bed.
    Papa and Bear in little bed.

    Round 8:

    Mama, Monkey, and Bear in big bed.
    Papa in little bed.

    Round 9:

    Mama, Monkey, Bear, and Papa all in big bed – sleeping sideways with feet dangling off the end.

    Needless to say, we were all exhausted the next day.

     

    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

     

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  • They MIGHT Be Giants

    I had this conversation with my toddler a while back:

    Me: [singing] Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch / Who watches over you / Make a little birdhouse in your soul…

    Him: Mama?  Who’s singing this song?

    Me: It’s a group called They Might Be Giants.  The two main guys are named John and John.  Isn’t that silly that they are both named John?  Mama really likes their music.  Your ABCs, 123s, and Science CDs are all by them too.

    Him: Mama… are they really giants?

    Me: No, honey.  Mama has seen them in concert and they are regular sized… not giants.

    Him: But, they might be!

    Who could argue with that?

  • Yes, I Used My Son’s Potty!

    I can’t believe I’m about to admit this.  Some of you might think it’s hysterical.  Some of you may think it’s gross.  Some of you may have done it yourselves and many of you may have thought about it.

    My kids sleep in the car – a lot.  I drive around for hours a day getting my kids to nap.  I swear, between the gas being used and my Dunkin’ Donuts addiction, my children must have the most expensive naps in the world!  It’s a good thing I don’t have to pay for mileage!

    Anyway, that’s not the part I’m embarrassed to admit.  We went to the zoo the other day while on vacation at the shore.  By the time we left, we were all exhausted and I couldn’t walk another step.  I finally got my son to pee in his portable potty that we keep in the car (best thing ever).  I got both kids strapped in to their car seats.  Then, I realized that I had to go too.  However, I just couldn’t make it across the parking lot to the restroom in the playground area.  It was too much of a pain to unstrap both kids, too far of a walk for my tired feet, and too risky having the temptation of the playground right there.  I was going to have to hold it.  You would think that by now I would have learned my lesson, but it seems that I am a glutton for punishment.

    I started the car and headed out of the zoo with the intention of going back to the beach house where I could borrow another adult to watch my kids while I ran in to use the facilities.  But then, my husband called.  Since I had the car, he had taken a bus to a town about 40 miles north of where we were.  He was looking for his next bus to get to us.  I told him the kids had just fallen asleep and I’d be driving around for the next two hours anyway, I might as well come pick him up.

    So, I went in the opposite direction of the house.  I went away from all the people who could help me.  I went away from the nearest bathroom.

    The more I thought about it, the more desperate I got.  But as much as I needed to go, there was no way I was waking up my kids.

    I often daydream about all of the businesses that should have drive-thrus when I’m driving around with my sleeping babies.  At this moment, a drive-in bathroom stall seemed like a really good idea.

    Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my saving grace… my son’s portable potty.  No, I thought.  I wouldn’t dare.  I couldn’t.  I shouldn’t.  Should I?  Could I?  Do I dare?

    I pulled into an unpopulated parking lot and stared at the thing.  “You know you want to,” it seemed to say to me.  It’s times like these that being a man would be so much easier.

    I looked around.  I was alone.  No one would be the wiser.

    I shimmied.  I adjusted.  I wiggled.  I covered up.  I peed.  I sighed a sigh of sweet relief.

    I put away and disposed of everything that needed to be put away and disposed of and I got back in the driver’s seat.

    I giggled.  No one would be the wiser.

  • The Power of Mom

    Have you heard stories about mothers who muster up super-human strength when their children are in danger? I have often wondered (but hope never to be in the position to find out) if I would find that power within me if it were ever needed. I realize, though, that there are little moments each day when we DO possess that strength – even if it is not as extreme as lifting a truck. No matter the circumstances, big or small, we just do what needs to be done for the well-being of our children and families.

    For example, when we were at the beach this summer, I was watching my son play in the ocean. It was a cool out and the waves felt uncomfortably cold on my toes. On brutally hot days, I often wade in up to my knees, but on this particular day, I had absolutely no interest in getting wet. However, when my son got knocked over by a wave while playing in the surf, I was unaware of the icy cold water and felt nothing as I practically dove into the ocean to help him get back on his feet. I did what needed to be done. I was, in that moment, a supermom.

    A few weeks back, my son wanted to ride his bike. So, we strapped on his helmet and I managed to finally figure out how to get my daughter into the back carry position in my Ergo. I was exhausted after a long day on my feet and was not looking forward to the walk. My bones were tired. My muscles were aching. I just wanted to be off my feet and unstrapped to a baby. We went anyway. Every step away from home meant another dreaded step back. But, when my son stumbled off his bike and scraped his knee and hand, I practically sprinted home with a baby on my back, a toddler and my hip, and a bicycle under my other arm. I could have walked miles… uphill… without regard for my throbbing feet, sore back, and overall lack of energy. I did what needed to be done. I was, in that moment, a supermom.

    Recently, I made some hard-boiled eggs that were to be turned into egg salad for lunch. I put my baby girl down on the floor to play, but she had no interest in being there and let me know by wailing every time she was set down. I was without my Moby Wrap and Ergo, so I was not hands free. With a baby who needed some love on my hip, I managed to figure out how to crack and peel hard boiled eggs using only one hand. I even used chin to help me open the jar of mayonnaise and my toes to pick up the dish towel I dropped. I made the egg salad and it was delicious, all things considered. I did what needed to be done. I was, in that moment, a supermom.

    You may be thinking that these are trivial events which in no way compare to the moms who can lift and move a car off of a child, and you’d be right. But, I am proud of these tiny victories nonetheless. You know how adults applaud the littlest achievement of children, like “Hooray, you ate all of your peas!” and “Hooray, you lifted your arms over your head when I asked you how big you were!”? Well, perhaps our tiny mommy (or daddy) victories should receive such accolades too (and heck, I ate all my peas and no one even noticed). These moments should be bragged about – “Hooray, you made it home from the supermarket with both children AND the groceries!” or “Hooray, you somehow managed to make a home cooked meal for dinner,” or how about “Hooray, you took a shower today!” (okay, maybe that last one’s not a great example.) My point is that we should all receive pats on the back – even just for making it through the day sometimes – because when all is said and done, we all do what needs to be done. We are all supermoms.

  • The Sad Tale of the Paper Towel

    Today I wrote a grocery shopping list on a paper towel.  Then I forgot and used the paper towel to sop up some spilled water.  Then I threw it out.  Then I remembered.  Then I took it out of the garbage and rewrote the list on an actual piece of paper.  Then I left the wet, crumpled paper towel on the counter.  Then I went shopping.  Then I came home and started to prepare dinner.  Then I turned on the stove.  Then the ceiling fan blew the paper towel into the flames.  Then I smelled something burning.  Then I grabbed some tongs and dropped the paper towel into the sink.  Then I doused it with water.  Then I turned on the garbage disposal and pushed it down the drain.

    It wasn’t a good day to be a paper towel.

  • Mamas Can Fix Trains, Too!

    I fixed the train table.  I did it.  Me.  All.  By.  Myself.  The train tracks have been both a blessing and a curse in my house.  I found a train table on the curb one day.  It wasn’t in the greatest condition, but I figured with a little love, we could fix it up and make it like new again.  Well, that hasn’t really been done yet, but it’s clean and functional.

    We bought a basic set of trains and tracks at IKEA just to get us started.  Then, we bought a few Thomas pieces and were glad to inherit many more trains and buildings from a friend whose sons had outgrown them.

    Suddenly, the basic figure eight track layout seemed so dull.  In an effort to spruce it up a bit, we started changing the design.  But then it got complicated.  Once we started adding stations, water towers, and the like, things started not fitting well.  Before I knew it, we were back at the toy store getting connector pieces and more tracks.

    It was difficult for my son to play with these broken up tracks.  Finally, my husband began designing a new layout.  However, now we were missing stanchions (you know, those things that hold up the raised track).  As a result, every time my son went to drive his train, the tracks would fall apart.  It became very frustrating for all parties involved!

    My husband finally made some wood blocks to serve as stanchions, but due to many late nights at work he didn’t have a chance to work on fixing the tracks.  For weeks, the tracks remained relatively unplayable.  I tried to come to the rescue.  I attempted to fix the awesome layout my husband had started but, well, one thing led to another and before I knew it, the whole track was changed and unsalvageable.  To make matters worse, I didn’t take a photo before reconstruction began.  I have yet to live this down.

    My in-laws came to visit and stay for a weekend.  Grandpa was tasked with trying to undo the damage I had done.  He ended up starting from scratch and made a perfectly fine track.  Then, he tried to make it fancier… and fancier… and ended up having to go back to basics with his original design as he encountered the same problems we all had.  This layout got us through.  Trains were able to move around and we were able to play, so a special thanks to Grandpa for his time and effort.  Somehow, though, it didn’t last.  My son wanted to spruce it up a bit on his own and ended up making lots of tracks to nowhere.  Sigh.

    About a year ago, friends of ours donated a brand new Thomas train table to our local library.  It was great.  Although it is still there, trains are missing, pieces are broken, and the tracks are falling apart despite them being glued to the table.  Even still, the train table is a major highlight with all of the neighborhood kids when hanging out in the children’s section.  My kids and I went to play with it as we do after every weekly story hour and I suddenly had a brilliant idea.  “Take a photo.  This layout works.  Sure, we don’t have all of the same pieces, but maybe we can sort of replicate it.  Heck, it’s worth a try.”

    We went home and gave it a go.  Of course, each time a new track was placed on the table, there was immediately a train on top of it.  This slowed things down a bit.  And little baby fingers that came out of nowhere kept grabbing pieces and pulling them back down to the ground to be slobbered on – also not helpful.  Still, I persevered.  I used the photo from the library as my guide and watched in amazement as it started so come together, piece by piece.

    There are uphills.  There are downhills.  Tracks split then come back together.  Stanchions keep the raised track from falling.  There is a suspension bridge, a station, a water tower, a coal chute, a crane, and even a pirate ship.  I swear I heard an angelic chorus singing , “Aaaaaah,” as I placed the last piece on the track, realizing that it all fit.  No more tracks to nowhere.

    Trains zoomed around the track.  A little boy giggled with excitement.  A baby girl clapped hooray.  A mama was proud.

    When Papa returned from work, my son grabbed him by the hand and pulled him upstairs to see the new train setup.  On their way, I asked my husband if afterwards he would take my son outside to run around a bit before bed.  “Wow!” I heard from below.  “Screw taking him outside!  I’m playing with trains!”

    Mama done good.

  • The Kindness of Strangers Experiment: Pizza Delivery to My Car

    How many times have you been stuck in the car with a sleeping child while wishing you could run errands, get something (anything) accomplished, or go into a store or restaurant while he or she napped? In my case, it’s almost daily.

    Although I’m not proud of it, I have had my fair share of drive through fast food over the last few months. This is due to the fact that many of my kids’ naps involve me driving in circles for hours while they snooze in the back seat. During these hours of driving aimlessly, I have had a lot of time to think about a whole lot of nothing such as why aren’t there any drive through pizza joints or Chinese food places?

    This brings me to my first experiment in my Kindness of Strangers series: Pizza Delivery to My Car.

    It was lunchtime and we were out and about. My 3 year old wanted pizza for lunch and we were headed to get some when my baby daughter fell asleep in the car earlier than expected. Since neither of my children transfer well, I couldn’t bring the car seat in to the pizza place and expect her to remain asleep. I was trying to come up with a plan. My first idea involved picking up my husband at work, driving him to the pizza place, getting him to buy a slice for my son, and having a picnic in the parking lot before returning him to his office. Somehow, I didn’t think that would go over very well. The next plan involved driving home and ordering pizza to be delivered to the house, but for only two slices, it just didn’t seem like the best choice (and it probably would have taken too long). As I was working on my next crazy idea, I looked in the rear view mirror to discover that my son was now sleeping too. Figures.

    Although his nap bought me some time, I was now starving and knew that I would not be able to wait the two hours or so until they woke up to first have lunch. And of course, I now had pizza on the brain, so that was all I wanted to eat. But, other than leaving my kids unattended in the car (which I would never do), the words that kept running through my head were “What’s a girl gotta do to get a slice around here?”

    I remembered that the pizza place close to my husband’s office has a big, glass front and there is a loading zone right in front. I thought. I pondered. I wondered. I pulled in.

    I took out my smart phone and looked up their phone number. I called.

    “Hi!” I said to the gentleman in the white t-shirt and apron at the other end of the phone. “I’m right outside of your restaurant in the gray SUV.” I waved and noticed the inquisitive look on his face. “My kids are both sound asleep in the car and, since I can’t leave them alone, I was wondering if it might be possible to get two slices delivered to my car.”

    “Uh… okay. I guess so,” he replied, and I watched as our two pieces got placed in the oven to be warmed up.

    I scrambled around looking for enough spare change to be able to pay him in cash. I figured it wasn’t quite fair to make him run back and forth just to swipe my credit card. When my food was ready, I watched him gather napkins, my slices, some plates, and plastic utensils. I planned on meeting him half-way, but of course, dropped some of the coins on the floor of the car as he made his way towards my car. I picked up the coins and found him right next to the driver’s side window. I rolled my window down, took the food, and handed him money for the pizza plus whatever extra I had (it wasn’t much, unfortunately) as a tip.

    I thanked him profusely, waved goodbye to him once he was back behind the counter, saw him smile and realize that he did a good thing, and drove off with the smell of cheesy goodness filling the car.

    Many, many thanks to the kindness of this stranger.