andbabymakes3imean4

One mom's adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart

IMG_7912.JPG


Leave a comment

Take 5! Time to Recharge! This Mama is on Timeout!

Sometimes I feel like the worst mother on earth. Sometimes I feel like I am so stressed that I might explode. Sometimes I feel like I am so tired that if I lie down to go to sleep, I might sleep for 3 days straight. Today is one of those “sometimes.”

Don’t get be wrong. Being a stay-at-home mom is HARD. It is draining, overwhelming, exhausting, stressful and chaotic…. But I miss it. It’s ironic since I had many days while I was still on maternity leave that I would daydream about being back at work, wearing real clothes, accomplishing big things, having adult conversations, peeing when I needed to pee, drinking coffee while it was still hot, taking a break when I needed a break, etc. it seemed like a dream. It’s not.

Being a working mama is extremely difficult. With a 1 year old and 2 year old at home, sometimes just getting out of the door in the morning with all of us dressed and all of our gear packed is a small miracle. Showering, doing hair, doing makeup, getting dressed, packing a lunch, packing a laptop, packing a diaper bag, changing diapers, dressing kiddos, putting shoes on unwilling feet, loading kids into car seats and dropping them off at daycare is a huge list of tasks to accomplish every weekday before 7:30am… It’s only made harder when one or both of my kids scream and cry because they don’t want me to go. Talk about heartbreak. And all of this early morning commotion so I can jump on the highway and start my hour-long commute in rush-hour traffic. Ugh.

I treat myself to takeout coffee far more often that I should because dammit, I deserve it (and need it!). Oh… And I have yet to find a travel mug that doesn’t leak or make my coffee taste funny. (Side note: the bonus of being a mom is that I can blame any “bump in the road” spill on my kids.)

Work is challenging and demanding and far harder to do now since I have so many things juggling through my head all at once and rarely (never) go into work on more than 5 hours of sleep. I miss my kiddos when I’m at work and wish I could be home. I hope they are having a fun day. I wonder if I shut my flat iron off before I left. I hope I put the milk back in the fridge. I question whether or not I packed Tylenol in the diaper bag in case poor little teething Mr. C needs it, I contemplate quick dinner options and whether or not we need more diapers.

If I take a quick lunch break, I use it to buy things like diapers, wipes, baby shampoo, etc. I do my monthly Costco runs at lunchtime so that I don’t have to enter into the circus that is Costco on a weeknight or weekend since I can no longer go mid-week during the day when “everyone else” is working. The only downfall is that I can’t buy anything that needs to be refrigerated on my lunchtime runs. Not until winter at least when it will stay cold in the car all afternoon.

My drive home is always an hour or more of stop-and-go traffic. I rush to pick my babies up from daycare. Their reaction to seeing me walk through the door is always the highlight of my day. They have no idea just how bright their little faces shine as they look up and yell “Mommy!” as they run over offering the most incredible hugs that melt the stress off my body. This part of the day makes it all worth it.

I load them into the car, drive them home, unload their gear and my gear and bring it inside as I unlock the door. Then I unload Miss M and remind her to go to her brother’s car door. Then I unload Mr. C and either bring them into the backyard to play as I run in to start dinner while watching them from the kitchen window and running in and out to make sure they are okay…Or I carry them both inside with me so they can’t take off into the backyard as they both scream “Siiiide!” and pound in the door because they want to be outside.

Playtime. Dinner time. Dishes. Bath time. Teeth brushing time. Diaper time. Pajama time. Storytime. Bedtime. And then the night is over… Time to relax and fold a load or two of laundry before bed. Life is exhausting. Sometimes it’s too much.

Tonight as I was mid-bath stage, with both kids shampooed, washed and teeth brushed, I found myself holding back tears and telling myself (inside my head) that it was almost bedtime. Hubby came upstairs and could see that something was wrong. I was just tired. All I wanted to do was lie down in silence. Alone. From daycare runs to a rush-hour commute to a crazy work day, to another rush-hour dash to pick the kids up from daycare, I find myself pulling into the driveway to pick them up and forcing myself to take one quick, deep breath to give myself a chance to switch from career woman to Mommy.

My kids are so excited to see me, to play with me, to hug me, to love me, to babble away to me. They are also hungry and needy and tired and cranky and don’t want to eat their dinner and don’t want to share the swing and don’t want to brush their teeth and don’t want to go to bed. It can be a really tiring part of the day. And when I feel overwhelmed by this part of the day, I feel my entire body fill with guilt because my babies need me. Since returning to work, I only get a couple of precious hours to spend with them during the week. It’s not enough and it’s not fair. It’s also not fair that by the time I am able to finally spend time with the little loves of my life, I am spun up so tight with stress, exhaustion and anxiety. I feel so drained. It’s unfair to them. I want to be the best Mommy I can be to them but sometimes I am just too tired and that makes me sad.

Tonight was one of those “sometimes.” I was pushing through the whole day and pushing through dinner and being patient with a screaming one year old who threw his plate of Shepherd’s pie against the wall because his mouth hurt from teething and he was enraged from pain. I pulled together enough energy to enthusiastically run through my 2 year old’s flash cards so she could excitedly shout out all of her colours and numbers. She is such a smart cookie! She knows all of her numbers and colours at just 27 months old. I pushed myself to do the dishes and then clean out the fridge while the kids ate their dessert. It needed to be done. By the time I was finishing baths, I had nothing left. I was so tired. So drained. So exhausted. So starved for “me time.” I tried to keep pushing but I couldn’t. And I was mad at myself. Mad that I couldn’t drum up just another 30 minutes of “super mom.” Bedtime story reading is one of the highlights of my day. Today I couldn’t do it. For the first time ever, I accepted my husband’s offer to go and lie down. The pressure I was feeling was too much and I needed a break. I had nothing left.

I laid on my bed while Hubby got the kids diapered and into their pajamas. I heard them both yelling “Mommy! Mommy!” and tears trickled down my cheeks as I laid in silence and felt like I had let them down. We only get a couple of hours together each day after all and I was giving up the last half hour as they called for me wondering where I had gone. How awful. How selfish. How sad.

I refused to cry and just tried to regroup. It felt incredible to be alone. I could feel my entire body rejuvenating. It was only about 7 minutes before my 1 year-old son came running in yelling “Mommy!” with a huge victorious smile knowing he had “found me!” He climbed up on the bed all by himself and plunked himself down on my stomach wrapping his arms and legs around me and pushing his cheek into my chest, holding me as tight as he could. Then he bounced up smiling with his nose against my nose and squealed “Mommy!!! Yuh-you!” I love you too, Buddy.

Hubby finished reading Miss M her bedtime stories and then came in to bring Mr. C to bed. I kissed him goodnight and took a few deep breaths while listening to Miss M bang against the baby gate at her doorway screaming “Mommy!” A few more minutes. I breathed and let myself unwind for another 5 minutes then I got up and walked across the hall to Miss M’s room. “Mommy!” she squealed with excitement. I opened the gate and she reached for me to pick her up. “No. Let’s have a cuddle! Do you want to snuggle?” She immediately turned around and did this crazy,energetic little skippy jog that she does over to her bed. We climbed into her bed and she snuggled into me with a sweet little smile on her face. Then she poked my nose and said “nose!”, then my eye and squealed “eye!” Then my mouth and said “mouth!” She did the same thing for hair, ear, eyebrow and chin. Then she cracked me right up when she poked my chest and said “Boobie! One! Two!” Excellent counting, little one!

Lesson learned: a 15 minute timeout can go a long way. Life is busy. Being a Mommy is challenging, exhausting and demanding. We owe it to ourselves to take a quick intermission to regroup and recharge. 15 minutes of silence and solitude can go a long way. It makes it so you can function again, snuggle with your little love bugs, smile at their sweetness and enjoy their limitless love and affection. I will be taking the time to recharge my “mama batteries” more often. I’m not saying that this little break miraculously fixed everything and eliminated all of my stresses but it certainly helped me to refocus and enjoy the little things. Like a big hug and “yuh-you! from a tiny little boy and lying in bed listening to my 2 year old count to 10 as she plays with my hair. These little things truly are the big things. When you start only seeing the tasks and the to-do lists and the countdown to bedtime, take a quick timeout to refresh so you can appreciate the little bits of sweetness that life offers.

A special thank you to my Hubby for offering to cover for me so I could take a quick break. The only thing I am worse at than accepting help is asking for it. Thank you for offering (again.)

Andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart. Thank you for reason this post! Please consider following my blog or liking my page on Facebook by clicking here! xo

IMG_8649.JPG


Leave a comment

A “Punkin” for our Pumpkin. $1.39 well spent!

Yesterday we took the kiddos south of the border for a trip to the aquarium, groceries, a gas run and new dance shoes for 2 year old Miss M’s first year of dance class.

Hubby elected to stay in the car with 1 year old Mr. C while I took Miss M into the store for dance shoes. (Random fact: Payless Shoesource Canada only carries toddler-sized ballet slippers in white and pink. Payless Shoesource USA carries them in black which is what she needed for jazz class. Second random fact: My Garmin GPS needs a speech path. It kept pronouncing “Shoesource” as “Shawse-urs”. I realize it’s poor grammar but come on!)

I brought Miss M into the store and picked up a pair of size 8 jazz slippers to try on for size. There was a little bench right behind us. I asked Miss M to sit down so we could try them on. Then I almost died of shock because when I let go of her hand she actually DID WHAT I ASKED. It was weird. (She is a highly active 2 year old after all. I was prepared to chase her the second I let go of her hand!). I took her Dora croc off her foot and almost passed out from the stench. This girl has stinky, sweaty feet. I bought her the Adidas version of crocs/sandals but they gave her blisters so we are back to the old stinkers. I put a little nylon sockette on her foot and she squealed and said “tickles!” This little one is picking up new words every day. It’s unreal. I realize that dance shoes run a little different than street shoes but I could not even get the size 8 on her foot. Her feet are so wide. We ended up settling for a size 10. I wasn’t sure if they were too big but when she took off sprinting through the store while wearing them, I figured they would be just fine. (If she can run around a store in them not listening to instructions, she should be able to do the same thing in a dance room. Hopefully she will also do a little but of listening, learning and dancing in them too!)

We returned to the car. Miss M did not want to get back into the car so she tightened her knees so her legs wouldn’t bend and refused to sit in her seat while she screamed and flailed. I tried everything to wrestle her back into her car seat but she wouldn’t give in. Finally I said “Would you like a cup of milk?” She instantly transformed into sweet little angel mode and piped up “Yes please!”

Off we went to the grocery store. The kiddos were hungry. I was not up for taking them to a restaurant so was hoping that Wegman’s would have a family chicken meal deal or something to feed them quickly. I hadn’t been to this store (or anywhere besides my laundry room and work) in a while and wow! Was I ever amazed! (I am fully aware that I have no life!). They had an incredible salad bar/ hot buffet station. Here I thought I would be settling for a rotisserie chicken and deep fried potato wedges! Instead we feasted on homemade macaroni and cheese, chicken breast topped with pesto and cherry tomatoes, kale Caesar salad, blanched green beans, roasted cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, a delicious tomato/bacon/ranch tortellini salad and sushi that tasted like it was from a sushi restaurant. Yum! We packed our containers and then did a quick run through the grocery store to grab our household staples: organic homogenized milk and craft beer.

The kids had a great time “driving” the super cool shopping cart complete with steering wheels in front of the kiddo seats. Little did we know, we really didn’t have to buy anything for lunch because we samples all kinds of delicious treats throughout the store.

About halfway through our trip, Miss M got restless. No bacon and cheddar burger sample was going to tame her. She unbuckled herself from her seat in the cart and refused to sit down (again.). I took her out and told her she could walk but would have to hold my hand. She did really well. At one point, after being handed a cheese sample, she started to take off on us but stopped herself, turned around, held up her arm and shouted “Hand!” as she reached for my hand. Once she got tired of walking, she happily sat back in the cart as we headed for the checkout.

Hubby and I were loading our loot on to the counter when Miss M suddenly shouted “PUNKINNNNNN!!!!!” We turned around to see her reaching over to the post at the end of the aisle and using it to leverage herself (and the cart) over towards a huge bin of candy bars at the end of the aisle. Before I could process what she was trying to do, she reached over into the bin of candy and pulled out a miniature pumpkin (one of those tiny gourd type of pumpkins) from the bin. With a huge smile on her face, she held it close to her chest while wiggling back and forth in her seat chanting “Punkin! Punkin! Punkin!” with glee.

At this exact moment, I knew we were not leaving the store without that pumpkin. I didn’t even know if we could bring it home. You’re not supposed to bring any type of produce over the border. Hmm. As I pushed the cart through the checkout, I attempted to explain to Miss M that she had to give the pumpkin to the cashier so we could pay for it. I tried to take it from her and she clenched it right screaming “PUNKINNNNNN!” The cashier offered to just scan the code on the bottom of it except there wasn’t one so I had to pry it out of her fingers one at a time so he could put in on the scale to weigh it. Miss M had the meltdown of the century. In an instant, she was wailing with real tears, snotty nose, bright red face and a broken heart. The cashier looked up at me and said “$1.39. Do you want it?” I looked at him and then looked at “horror and devastation personified” in my cart. Umm yes. $1.39 is a small price to pay for peace and quiet… And to make our little girl’s day. Mr. C stared at Miss M as if to say “what is your problem?” and then with a quivering lip as if to say “should I be crying too?” I turned to Hubby and said we had to find one for Mr. C too. Mr. C didn’t seem to care about the damn pumpkin though. He was still steering away at the shopping cart’s steering wheel. Fine. We will only get one.

I still didn’t know if we were even allowed to bring a frickin’ miniature pumpkin over the bridge. Since Miss M would not even put the stupid thing down so we could get her into her car seat, we decided there was only one way to find out.

We headed for the bridge. We declared having $70 worth of goods including a case of beer. The customs officer said “Is everything else food?” Hubby said “yes” and I jumped in “and dance shoes!” since Hubby had forgotten about the dance shoe purchase which seemed like a lifetime ago. We headed home enjoying the peace of 2 sleeping, beautiful babies in the backseat of the car.

It wasn’t until I opened the back door in the driveway that I remembered we had bought a miniature pumpkin and evidently smuggled it over the border. Miss M was fast asleep with her blanket in one hand and her pumpkin in the other.

It wasn’t until we unloaded the groceries that we realized we had left a bag at the store. Damn. We left our cheese and Sriacha hot sauce behind. Aw well. My guess is that this bag had slipped under the race car seats when we were dealing with the mayhem of loading 2 overtired kiddos into the car.

It has now been over 24 hours since our miniature pumpkin purchase. Miss M has not put it down yet. We gave it a good wash when we got home last night which wasn’t overly necessary since it ended up in the bathtub with her, tucked into bed with her and then started the day off with her at the breakfast table.

Miss M does not go anywhere without her blanket which she originally called “Bee” but then learned “Blankie” at daycare but now that she has grown up over night, she calls “Blanket.”

Tonight as I dressed her in pajamas after her bath and tucked her into bed, she immediately cried out “Blanket! PUNKIN “. Hubby, Miss M, Mr C and “Punkin” cuddled into Miss M’s bed and read at least 5 books. I brought A tired and adorable Mr. C to his room while Hubby tucked in Miss M and Punkin. This was the best $1.39 ice ever spent.

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap-dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart. Thank you for reading! If you could relate or laugh even just a little bit, please subscribe to my blog or like my page on Facebook<!
by clicking here<a href="http://www.facebook.com/andbabymakes3imean4&quot;! Much love! XoIMG_8650.JPG

photo (19)


1 Comment

One Less Crib in our Crib: Miss M’s Not-so-Smooth Transition to “Big Girl Bed”

Tonight I am writing this blog while lying on the far side of my bed so I am out of sight to my sweet little two-year old who is crying at the baby gate in her doorway. My heart is breaking but I am trying to stay strong. If I bring her into bed with me like I did last night and the night before, it will become a habit that we will not be able to break. A habit sort of like watching an episode of Dora the Explorer on the iPad from her crib when she isn’t feeling well which has now become a part of her bedtime routine. It is Miss M’s iPad. I know it. Hubby knows it. She knows it and even 14 month old Mr. C knows it… But he is willing to fight for that iPad. (We may need to invest in a second one soon.) Miss M can navigate through that iPad without issue. She knows how to open and play a video. She swipes her way through photos. She can open her preschool apps and play games.

Here’s a funny digression:  Last weekend, Hubby and I were at a wedding and my parents were watching the babes. I was in a deep conversation with the woman sitting next to me (about our kids… Obviously… Because that’s what mommies do when they are out sans babies… They talk about their kids, compare war stories and show pictures.) Just as my new-found mommy friend and I are realizing that her daughter and my son were born 2 days apart, Hubby taps me on the shoulder and says “You’re face timing me.” No I’m not.. I turned back to my conversation only to have him nudge me again, this time with his phone in his hand showing me the call display which shoes my name making a FaceTime call. My phone is in my purse under the table! There’s no way I am facetiming you! By the third nudge to show the third FaceTime call, I realized that I am signed in to itunes on the iPad at home. (How else would I access my newly purchased Bubble Guppies series?)  My parents would have put a show on it for Miss M when they put her to bed and she has reached it and has placed a FaceTime call to hubby. Answer it! I exclaimed. This is hilarious! After a couple calls and baby babble, Hubby called my parents to let them know they might need to take the iPad away. Amazing. Anyways, like I said, that was a huge digression but well worth it.

So here I am hiding out in my bedroom trying to be present enough for Miss M to know I am close by but distant enough that she doesn’t throw a fit wanting me to bring her into bed with me.  She is standing at the new baby gate in her doorway with her sippy cup and blanket in hand, ready to be rescued.  Last night, Hubby and I were sitting on the living room couch chatting while both kids were in bed when suddenly we heard someone run across the hall into our room. There was no thud. No sound. Just little feet running and then a little voice exclaiming “Mommy!!!” When she didn’t find me in our bedroom, she proudly ran down the stairs towards us. It is official. Miss M has figured out how to climb out of her crib. I feel responsible. This week I was just talking about how she climbs in her crib and in and out of her little brother’s crib but has never tried to climb out of her own no matter how much she is protesting bedtime. This has now changed.

We tried to put her back into her crib at least 27 times… Each time she would climb back out and run out of her room. She also ran right into Mr. C’s room to wake him up at least 4 times. This was not good. In order to keep her contained (and Mr. C undisturbed), we put a baby gate on her doorway. It was too late at night to convert her crib to a toddler bed. So we gave in and brought her to bed with us. She slept soundly between Hubby and me. At one point, she flipped upside down and had her feet touching Hubby’s face. Tomorrow would be toddler bed day.

The next morning I woke up with soaking wet pants and all I could smell was urine. What the heck! I have been battling a kidney infection for the past couple days. I have had to pee so frequently that I had to make a “pit stop” at Burger King on the way home from picking up my prescription.  I made it to the washroom just in time. As I washed my hands, I figured I should probably buy something to justify my toilet usage… But I really didn’t want anything there. So I ran back out the door like a weirdo and jumped into my car and peeled out of there anticipating the entire staff to come running out to chase me down. I felt like such a rebel. I’m badass, I know. Anyway, as I woke up soaked in urine (there’s a sentence you don’t type everyday,) I wondered if I had peed myself… Until I turned and saw Miss M sleeping like a baby (haha yeah right! That expression is so ridiculous and ironic!). Anyways there she was, sleeping like a daddy (that’s more like it!) and she had peed through her diaper and pajamas and on to my pajamas. She had wet the bed… in our bed.A wonderful way to start the day.

As I cleaned up Miss M and myself and stripped our bed linens, Mr. C woke up screaming at the top of his lungs. I opened his door to the worst stench ever expecting the hugest poop ever in his diaper but he was just wet. That is a lot of gas for one little dude. Boys are gross right from the beginning. The poor little man was hot with fever and miserable. He is cutting his molars and has been suffering. As I fed he and Miss M breakfast, Hubby excitedly took Miss M’s crib wall off and assembled the big girl toddler safety guard for her to try out this afternoon at nap time.

When nap time came along, we made a big deal out of Miss M going to bed in her “big girl bed.” We cuddled her in and told her how proud we were and wished her sweet dreams. Miss M did a lot in that 2 hour time frame. Sleeping was not one of them. She read books, ripped one book apart, emptied her toy bin and sat in it, pulled the register out of her vent, threw her blankets all over her room and even managed to pull the toddler safety guard off of her bed and throw it across the room. I told Hubby that they really should make them so they screw into the crib frame. He said it was screwed in. She pulled the part that wasn’t screwed off of the part that was. I don’t see this piece being our best option.

With no nap and a very busy day, Miss M was exhausted by the time bedtime came around. She cried in the bath tub because she just wanted to go to bed. Once she was out of the tub, she curled up on her big girl bed with her blanket. I diapered her and dressed her in pajamas as she laid there sucking her thumb. I had a feeling she would have no trouble falling asleep… And she didn’t….

photo (25)

…Until half an hour, seconds after I had finally got a cranky and teething Mr. C settled in to sleep when she fell out of her bed. Crap. She was terrified. I picked her up and comforted her and knew I had to do something or else she was going to fall out again and again all night. I was so mad at myself for being naive enough to think she wouldn’t fall out.

Hubby had gone out. I called to see if he could come back to relieve me for half an hour so I could run to the store and buy a better safety guard/bed rail contraption. No such luck. I could bring Miss M with me but I really didn’t want to have to wake Mr. C up after he had just settled to drag him out to the store.  I called my mom and she came over to snuggle with Miss M while I went on a late night toddler bed mission. On a Sunday night at 9pm, Walmart was my only option. Ugh.  Walmart did not have any safety guards or bed rails but they did have toddler beds. Cheap hunks of plastic available in either Disney’s Cars or Disney’s Minnie Mouse in order to force you, the buyer into defining your child by gender and making sure that no two brother/sister siblings can share anything. I read the “Easy to Assemble!” label on the boxes, grabbed the Minnie Mouse toddler bed and lugged it to the cash register.  $70 for a hunk of plastic with a Minnie Mouse sticker on it.  Miss M doesn’t even know who Minnie Mouse is… ah well, if it helps her to get some sleep, it is worth every penny.

I brought it home and my mom helped me to assemble it while Miss M ran away with the screwdriver every single time I needed it. We put it together and she was so excited. We brought it upstairs and put her crib mattress on it and she was even more excited. She hopped in and snuggled in for the night. Success! Phase 2 of “Miss M’s first night in a big girl bed” begins now!

photo (20)

Twenty minutes later, she was up, she was screaming and she was scared. I got her up again.  She wanted to lie on our bed but there was a problem; our bed was not made because until this very moment, as I was ready to turn in for the night, I did not remember that all of our linens were still soaking wet in the washing machine from the pee incident of this morning. As Miss M screamed and followed me from the linen closet to our room, I quickly made up our bed with spare sheets and then tossed her on it. She sighed an instant sigh of relief. I brought up a cuddle of fleece blankets since our duvet would not be dry anytime soon.  We cuddled and watched an episode of Bubble Guppies. When we got to the second episode, I kissed her on the head and then sneaked into the bathroom to have a shower. It was now around 11pm.  I had to get up at 6am to go to work and had a feeling I was in for a long night.  If I wanted to bathe, I needed to do it now.  As I rinsed the conditioner from my hair, I felt the odd feeling that someone was watching me. I opened my eyes to the excited shouting of “Mommy!” Miss M was standing outside of the shower, blanket and sippy cup in hand, excited that she had found me with one foot over the side of the bath tub in attempts to climb in with me.  

photo (21)

I got out of the shower, got dressed and then pulled the rocking chair next to Miss M’s new toddler bed and tucked her in as she cried. I reassured her that I was right here and read her some books. Then I tiptoed out of her room and closed the baby gate behind me.

Miss M leaped out of bed and screamed at the gate “Mommy!” Which brings me to where I am now where I am a prisoner in my own room trying to stay strong and not give in to her. She will be fine. This is a big step.  Approximately 20 minutes later, Miss M was quiet.  A few friends had shared stories of their little ones falling asleep at the gate in their door way in the first few days of transitioning from crib to bed.  I figured she was asleep.  I quietly shimmied across the bed to peek across the hall expecting to see her sweet little body curled up fast asleep.  I was caught completely off guard and couldn’t help but laugh when I looked across the hall to see her still standing at the doorway, wide awake holding her sippy cup and her blanket.  She yelled “Mommy!” with a big smile on her face when she saw me….and then we started all over.

photo (22)

After lying on her floor next to her toddler bed for an hour singing songs as she laid in it making sure I didn’t leave, she finally fell asleep.  12:30am.  Here’s hoping this is the last time.  I pulled myself up on to my knees and crawled out of her room, shutting the gate behind me and collapsed on my bed. Within a minute of me lying down, I heard a key in the lock of the front door.  So did Miss M.  As Hubby opened the front door, Miss M jumped up squealing “Daddy!”  I tried not to cry.

Miss M was out of bed and at the gate hoping Daddy would rescue her from her room this time.  Hubby spent about 5 seconds trying to tuck her back in before deciding that he would just bring her into our bed.  Nice try.  Nuh-uh.  Not happening.  I would have done that approximately 5 hours ago if I wasn’t afraid of creating a habit that we would never, ever be able to break.  We both went into her room and started all over.  Miss M fell asleep and we tiptoed back out of her room.  I thought I was going to collapse with exhaustion.  I stumbled across the hall and pulled a fleece blanket from the couch downstairs over myself.

Hubby followed me into our room and then turned the light on and asked “Do we not have a comforter or anything?”

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  If you liked this post, please click “subscribe” or follow my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Thanks for reading! :)


2 Comments >

Last night after working a 12 hour day that I drove an hour to and an hour home from, I was really excited to call Hubby and find out that Miss M had woken up and he was having trouble getting her back to sleep… not (entirely) because he was getting a taste of my battle but because I missed her (and Mr. C) and was excited that I would get to see her tonight!  It’s really hard working such long days.  I only see the kids when I wake them up, dress them and drop them off at daycare.  Hubby picks them up after work and they are in bed by the time I get home.  45 minutes/day with them just isn’t enough.  The babies agree.  They are always cranky the next day wondering how long I will be gone for this time after I drop them off.

I walked in the door to see Miss M snuggled right up with her Daddy.  She looked pale and felt clammy.  She wasn’t feeling well.  She had refused to nap all day and after almost causing me to have a heart attack earlier in the evening by texting me saying “M just passed out.  What should I do?”, Hubby had put her to bed early.  When you are an hour away from home, reading a text that says your kid just passed out makes you think “fainted” and “unconscious”, not “fallen asleep.”  I gladly took over the cuddle position with Miss M who gave me a big hug while smiling and cheering “Mommy! Mommy!” through tired eyes.  Hubby had to go to a late night meeting so Miss M and I cuddled in bed and watched a Dora.  She was extremely restless and was crying and holding her tummy.  Hubby said she had fallen asleep during dinner so could be hungry.  I carried her downstairs to make her a snack.  Just as I opened the fridge door, she turned towards me and threw up.  The vomit ran down both of our bodies and splashed onto the freshly washed porcelain tile.  I ran over to the counter, still holding Miss M on my hip who was now crying hysterically and pulled off approximately 1000 paper towels to clean us up.  I stripped her down then grabbed a washcloth and sponged her clean.  She unfortunately had puked all over her favourite blanket.  There was no way she would part with it for the night so I scrubbed the puke spots with dish soap in the kitchen sink to at least get some of the vomit out of it before I could wash it.  I turned to pick her back up to comfort her but realized I was still covered in puke myself.  I turned to grab some clothes but she screamed “MOMMMY!!!!!!”, not wanting me to leave.  No one else was home so I stripped down in the kitchen as well, mopped up the puke on the floor with a dish towel and threw all of our puked-on linens and clothes down to the laundry room then picked up my sick little baby and went back upstairs, me in my underwear and her in her diaper.  We both changed into fresh, clean pajamas.  Poor little Miss M cried and cried and cried, crying out “Mommy!” and holding her tummy.  I held her tightly in my arms, reading books and singing songs until she finally fell asleep on top of my arm with her head rested on my chest.  Sigh.  This is bliss.

Not wanting to move but desperate for some time to unwind, I reached for the remote and changed the channel to something other than “Bubble Guppies.”  Twenty minutes later she was snoring, I was unwinding from a long day and…. 1 year old Mr. C woke up and started crying.  Oh no!  Not him too!  I listened and sent him telepathic messages to go back to sleep.  There was no way I was going to get out of bed without disturbing Miss M.  A couple minutes later (which seemed like 100), I shoved a pillow under Miss M’s head and slithered out of bed without waking her.  I went into Mr. C’s room to see him standing up, crying with his arm outreached holding his empty bottle.  This little man is a tank.  He was hungry.  I picked him up, brought him downstairs, filled his bottle, changed his diaper, kissed him goodnight and laid him back in his crib.  As his sleepy head was just about to touch the crib mattress, his eyes shot open to the sound of Miss M screaming at the top of her lungs.  She had waken up and I wasn’t there.  I shushed Mr. C and he slowly fell asleep.  I pulled his door shut then ran into our bedroom to find Miss M covered in puke again.  Poor baby.  I stripped her down along with the pillow she had thrown up on and got her settled to sleep in my arms.

Just as I fell asleep, my phone rang…with the ringer on.  Dammit.  I reached for it on my nightstand but could not quite get my finger tips to reach it without waking up Miss M (again.)  I could see on the call display that it was Hubby.  I hoped everything was okay.  I quickly decided that if it was important, he would call back.  There was no use waking up our sick little two-year old.  Moments later, I heard the front door unlock.  Hubby must have been calling when he was close to home to see if I needed him to pick anything up from the store.  Milk.  The answer is always milk.  Even when we just bought 8 litres of milk yesterday, we still need milk.

Hubby came upstairs and commented on how adorable Miss M was cuddled up on my chest.  He asked if he should move her to her bed or if he should join us in our bed or if he should sleep downstairs so she doesn’t wake up.  In my delirium and after reading multiple kids’ books one after another, this sounded like a Dr. Suess book to me.  “Should I sleep here? Should I sleep there?  I will sleep anywhere.”  I don’t care…just do NOT wake her up.  She really needs her sleep.

Within 10 minutes of Hubby climbing into bed, he fell asleep and started to snore.  Miss M woke up screaming.  It was understandable.  It is quite terrifying that sounds like that can come out of a human being.  It may have been the snoring that woke her up but she was suffering with pain.  She arched her back and straightened her legs then curled up in a ball with her little belly pulsing.  She screamed in pain and discomfort.  I tried pumping her legs and rubbing her tummy.  I tried distracting her with books and an episode of Dora and songs and playing “This Little Piggy” with her toes.  She was in pain.  She seemed constipated.  I decided that rather than cause her to suffer anymore than she already had, I would give her a laxative suppository.  I bought these infant suppositories over a year ago but have never had to use them.  The night before, Mr. C was completely bound up and hysterical.  I gave him a suppository and he pooped within 10 minutes and went back to sleep.  Hopefully Miss M would have the same success.  Hubby turned away and cringed as I inserted it.  He can’t stomach these kind of things.  I put her diaper back on and pulled her pants up then brought her downstairs hoping a change in scenery might distract her from her discomfort and give her some relief while we waited for the suppository to take effect.

I tried playing with a puzzle but she screamed.  I tried putting her down to play with various toys but she would grab on to me and scream “Mommy!” until I picked her up.  I walked into the kitchen and read each of the letters out loud of her alphabet magnets.  Then I pointed to each one and said its colour.  This caught her attention for a few minutes until the pain would creep up and she would scream again.  She was really pushing down with her legs.  I hoped she hadn’t pushed the suppository out.  I opened a book to read.  We read each page then pointed out each of the different colours on each page and counted all of the objects on each page.  Then she lost interest again.  She was hysterical and was going to make herself sick if she didn’t settle down.  As a last resort, I opened the back door and took her outside.  We used to do this when she was a baby.  When she would cry non-stop and we couldn’t comfort her, we would take her outside and she would instantly be calm.  This worked again.  I walked around the patio with Miss M on my hip.  We counted the chairs.  We counted the flowers.  We counted the tomato plants.  We counted everything we could see in the dark.  Counting really keeps her interest.

Then we came back inside and I tried putting her in her crib.  I let her cry for 5 minutes (while watching the clock waiting for 5 minutes to be up so I could go back and get her) to see if she would settle.  She didn’t.  I brought her back into bed with me.  Then I brought her downstairs to the living room.  Then I tried sitting her in her chair in the kitchen to see if she would sit and have a drink and a snack.  Then back to bed.  Then back downstairs so she wouldn’t wake up Hubby and Mr. C.  (There was no reason for all of us to be exhausted.)  Finally she settled down into bed beside me.  She was almost asleep when she let out a cough and threw up a little bit with it.  I was so tired I could barely move.  I reached down and grabbed a towel out of the laundry basket beside me and cleaned it up.  Then wiped it with a baby wipe.  This would have to do until the morning.  It was only a spot the size of a baseball.  There was no way I could change the bed sheets right now.  Miss M cuddled back into my chest and fell asleep.  She was relaxed and calm and sleeping like a little angel.  Finally.  I was afraid to look at the clock but did just so I knew how much time I had left to sleep.  5:07am  Crap.  My alarm goes off at 5:50am.

I fell asleep with Miss M in my arms until my alarm went off less than an hour later.  I pressed snooze while I tried to decide what to do.  I hadn’t slept yet.  I have to drive 50 minutes to get to work and should not be driving while delirious.  Miss M was sick and shouldn’t be going to daycare when she is throwing up.  I was too tired to think.  I fell back asleep and woke up to Hubby telling me what time it was each time his alarm went off at 7:00, 7:10, 7:20 and 7:30.  At 7:30, I picked Miss M up and put her into her crib.  She was still really clammy and felt a bit warm too.  She laid down in her crib, put her thumb in her mouth and fell back to sleep.  I didn’t want to have to wake her up and bring her to daycare.  Plus, I was so tired I could barely stand myself.  My own skin felt sticky.  Then I realized that I hadn’t even had a chance to wash my face before going to bed yet.  I had to go to work but couldn’t.  I had to stay home with the kids but couldn’t.

Being a working mom is such a juggle.  You feel so torn, like you need to be in at least 2 places at once at all times.  You go into work tired from being Mommy then feel too tired to be a good Mommy after work.  There aren’t enough hours or enough “Mommy’ to go around.  The fact that I commute to work makes it even more stressful and exhausting.  I spend a minimum of 2 hours each day that I could be spending with my kids, sitting in the car by myself, navigating through highway traffic trying to get to work on time then trying to pick the kids up from daycare on time just to do it all again the next day.  There are a lot of unspoken pressures on moms in the workplace as well.  We mamas return to work feeling like we have to prove that we are there to work, that we are going to stick it out, that we are going to be just as productive and innovative as we were before we had children.  There is a strange stigma around new moms that makes us feel guiltier than we normally feel (as if that was even possible) where we don’t want to say we can’t come in early/work late/work weekends or can’t come in because we have kids.  There is this strange, unspoken expectation to prove that even though you have kids, your kids will not impact your work.  No one says a word.  It is just a feeling.

As much as I didn’t want to and as much as I had knots in my stomach as I did it, I called in sick this morning and said my baby was not feeling well so I had to stay home.  I immediately stressed wondering what the reprecussions would be for openly admitting that my kid was affecting my career.  I think I worry too much.  I find that in general, transitioning from workaholic to working mom who still wants to be a workaholic but still wants to be Mommy is extremely difficult.  At the end of the day, we working mamas need to accept that we can’t do it all.  We can only try our best to prioritize tasks and make the right decisions.  We have a ton of responsibilities and a ton of stresses.  We need to take care of ourselves and what is important and simply accept that sometimes, not everyone is going to be happy with our decision.  Sometimes sick babies go to daycare when they would rather be at home in Mommy’s arms and sometimes Mommy has to be Mommy and can’t go to work because there are little ones who need us to stay home.

I knew I had made the right decision when Miss M woke up this morning and her face lit up to see me standing beside her crib, ready to lift her out.  She exclaimed “Mommy!” through her sick little voice and cuddled into my shoulder.  She vomited all morning and spiked a fever of 102.7.  Staying home was the right decision.  She is one sick little girl today.  And if I needed any further affirmation, having her tiny arms wrap around my neck as she cuddles into my lap and looks up at me and coos “Mommy!  Yuv-You!” meaning “Love You!”

As for Mr. C, he is also happy to be at home chanting “Mommy! Mommy!” as he pries the vent cover off the floor vent and drops toys down the ducts knowing I can’t stop him with a sick little girl on my lap.  C’est la vie.

Mr. C fishing for lost toys

Mr. C fishing for lost toys

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventure while tap-dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  If you liked this blog post, please follow my blog or like my page on facebook.  Thanks for reading! xo

photo (17)


Leave a comment

Monday Madness: A Shotgun Start to Toilet Training?

Tonight after a long day at work, I was driving home and realized that it was Monday and I hadn’t prepped anything for dinner.  Time escaped me and after packing my lunch and the kids’ diaper bag this morning, I suppose my brain decided that must have been everything I needed to do.  Hubby was working late and I would soon have hungry “baby birds” to feed.  I picked up 2 year old Miss M and 1 year old Mr. C with the goal in mind of picking up a deli chicken and a few other items from the grocery store.  I pulled into a parking spot next to the cart corral, grabbed a Lysol wipe from one of my car’s cup holders, got out, disinfected a shopping cart then loaded both babes into the freshly disinfected cart.  As we cruised into the grocery store, Miss M wrapped her arms around her little brother to give him a hug…which gradually turned into an unintentional choke hold that I had to break as he coughed and gasped for air multiple times as we wandered the grocery store.  We picked up a deli chicken.  Miss M knows what a chicken says but does not yet enunciate “Bawk! Bawk!” correctly so she sat in the cart for the duration of our shopping trip flapping her “wings” while screaming “Cock! Cock!”  You’re welcome fellow shoppers.  It’s Monday.  You needed that smile.  We picked up some homo milk because even though Hubby just ran out and bought 8 litres of it on the weekend, we are down to one bag, as well as some produce and toothpaste.  While I chatted with the babes asking them what they wanted to eat with the chicken, Miss M kept shouting “Coo! Coo!”  I didn’t know what it meant and thought she was a little young to be noticing just how cuckoo I am until I realized that the last time we had bought a deli chicken, we ate couscous with it and she remembered!  Amazing!  That was probably a month ago!  I picked up some couscous.  Great idea, little one.

I pulled into the driveway and made 3 trips to the door before unloading the kids.  First, my purse and laptop bag while opening the door.  Then, the diaper bag.  Then I popped the trunk as two little faces chanted “Mommy! Mommy!” from the car seats inside the back seat.  I brought in the groceries along with the case of diapers I had picked up at lunch then ran back out and unloaded Miss M.  We have a great routine where I unload her first and wrap her blanket around my neck like a boa and then she walks with me to the other side of the car to unload Mr. C.  When I get him unbuckled, I say “Okay!  Go to the door!” and she runs up the driveway to the front door of the house.  Today she took off on me.  Luckily she went towards the backyard and not the road.  We need a fence, stat.  With Mr. C in tow, I followed her into the backyard where she immediately started playing with her toys.  I tried to get her to come out front and inside the house but she wouldn’t.  Crap.  We were in the backyard.  The back door was locked.  The front door was wide open with my keys in the lock and my purse, laptop, etc. still sitting on the front step.  Ugh.  I quickly took advantage of her being preoccupied with throwing all of the sand out of her sand table and ran around to the front of the house with Mr. C still bouncing away on my hip.  I scooped up my laptop and purse, pulled the keys out of the front door, ran inside the house, shut and locked the front door and ran to the back door to make sure Miss M was still playing.  She was.  I quickly grabbed the milk and threw it in the fridge on the way out into the backyard.  I opened the door just in time to catch a flash of Miss M making her getaway to the front yard.  I quickly yelled her name as I chased after her.  She immediately turned around and yelled “Mommy!” and came running towards me.  I don’t think she was actually trying to escape.  I think she had just realized she was alone for approximately 35 seconds and was running out to where she thought I was.  Again, we really need to install a fence. Ugh.

I brought both kids inside and put them in their seats.  It took some time since Miss M has a new obsession with buckling the safety belts on her booster seat and Mr. C’s high chair so I had to unbuckle each of the seats with a kid in my arm in order to seat them.  I served them their dinner and started to read the book Miss M had handed to me to read.  It was the Potty Time book my sister had bought her for Easter.  I must say, this book was the weirdest reading material I have read during a meal.  To paraphrase, “The little girls are all grown up with their fancy undies and shiny potties.  They sit on the potty and poo and pee…”  Miss M loves the word “poo” so would shout it each time I read it while Mr. C clapped.  What an awkward dinner book.

After the kids ate, I stripped their food-covered clothes off while still in the kitchen and brought them upstairs to where I had run a bath.  Both babes were exhausted so I scrubbed them down, brushed their teeth and shampooed their hair as quick as possible.  Miss M screamed because she wanted out of the tub.  I lifted her out, toweled her off and set her free to run into her room where she quickly picked up the ipad and loaded an episode of Dora the Explorer.  She is two years old and knows how to work an ipad.  Scary.  As she watched her show, I dried off Mr. C and brought him to his room as he screamed…half because he was tired and half because he is teething.  I laid him down on the change table and started to diaper and dress him as Miss ran into the room completely naked, holding the ipad, with her eyes watering as she cried “Wahhhhh!” as her knees buckled.  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.  Poooooooo! she cried.  “Do you have to go poopy?” I asked.  “Poopy” she whimpered.  “Go sit on your potty! Go sit on your potty!”  I said enthusiastically.  Miss M has been practicing sitting on her potty for months.  She just stood there, knees buckled, whimpering because she had to poop but wasn’t wearing a diaper and didn’t know what to do.  I saw an opportunity and went for it.  I put Mr C on the floor with his pants barely on so I could scoop her up and put her on her potty before it was too late.  As I picked her up, a big log of poop fell to the floor.  I paused for a millisecond then kept running.  Now was my chance to show her how to use the potty!   We ran into the bathroom where I forgot that she had disassembled her potty after her bath.  It is like a miniature toilet and while she is very particular about everything (buckles done up on booster seats, doors closed, etc.), I took a chance and sat her down.  She pooped a little bit before freaking out because her little toilet was not assembled.  She stood up and picked up the seat wanting me to put it together.  As she did I heard the “thud! thud! thud!” of Mr. C crawling across his bedroom floor.  THE POOP!!!  I threw Miss M’s “toilet seat” on the floor and ran out as she cried to grab Mr. C before he touched the log of poop she had left on the floor 45 seconds ago.

It was like a slow motion running scene from a movie “Noooooooooooooo!”  I literally scooped him up just before he reached out to pick up the poop he was sitting right in front of.  Phewwf.  With Mr. C in my arms screaming because I wouldn’t let him play with poop and Miss M still screaming from the bathroom because her toilet was still in pieces, I grabbed a bunch of wipes, scooped up the log of poop, wiped the floor, threw it in the toilet, flushed, put Miss M’s potty seat back on her potty, sat her down as she clapped and yelled “Yay! Poopy!” as she pooped a little more into her potty.  Victory…. I think?  As she pooped, Mr. C stood up holding onto the back of her potty shaking it furiously while screaming because HE wanted to sit on the potty.  Miss M got up and ran out of the bathroom with poop stuck to her leg.  I chased her to wipe her clean.  As I did, Mr. C stuck his hand into the potty and I turned around to see him sitting there with a big grin on his face staring at his hand, with extended fingers, covered in poop.  What does every teething baby do?  Put everything they see or touch in his mouth?  YES!  Without wasting a second, I leaped down the hallway and picked him up.  I held him over the sink scrubbing his hands clean as he screamed something that I can only imagine to have meant “Geez Mom.  You never let me have any fun!”  I put him down only to notice that the toilet was still running.  Of course it was.  It was still running because it is a million years old and I had just flushed a log of poop wrapped around a wad of wipes.  Ahhh!  I picked Mr. C up and carried him into his sister’s room where she was watching an episode of Dora on the ipad.  I ran back into the bathroom slammed the door and started plunging that bad boy.  I cleared it, scooped my gross wad out of the toilet, threw it in a bag, washed my hands and arms, finally pulled up Mr. C’s pants from half-dressing him forever ago, read him a story, put him to bed, read Miss M a story, put her to bed, took the poop outside, cleaned the potty then cracked a beer and sat down to write this before tackling the disgustingly food-covered kitchen because it’s a story worth sharing.

I’ve always loved writing.  Until I became a mom, I never knew just how many stories I would write about poop.  Poopity poopity poop.  I also didn’t realize that I would develop an iron stomach that allows me to do all that, then write about all that and then think, “I haven’t eaten dinner yet.  I’m hungry!”

 

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap-dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  Thank you for reading this post!  If you liked it (even just a little)  subscribe to my blog or like my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Peace. Love and Lysol Wipes. xo


2 Comments >

Mother’s Day 2014.  I had to work all day and called Hubby who had watched the kids all day to discuss dinner.  Yes, it is almost June and I am only just now, writing about Mother’s Day.  Given that I am approximately 6 weeks behind on life, this isn’t overly alarming.  (Our son turned 1 April 24.  Our daughter turned 2 May 21st…birthday party date….TBD.  Ugh)  So when I mentioned dinner, Hubby immediately offered to heat up his leftover crockpot concoction (fail) from the night before.  It was pretty ironic considering he does not ever eat leftovers under any circumstances.  Even leftover steak and roast beef are immediately rejected.  (I don’t know why I decide the beef leftovers are the most valuable.)  He will refuse to eat a dinner he ate the day before and will voluntarily eat a peanut butter sandwich instead.  It’s weird.  And therefore makes it ironic that when he makes a meal, he immediately thinks it is worthwhile to eat again today.  I didn’t think I could stomach that concoction again.  Hubby called it the “Man Version of Chicken Cacciatore” which meant he has paid half-attention to my chicken cacciatore over the years and with limited knowledge and ingredients, threw chicken, a jar of sauce, carrots and celery into the crockpot…forever.  It wasn’t horrible but it was Mother’s Day…I had already worked all day and didn’t want to eat that.  I suggested we go out to eat.

I commute just under an hour to/from work so asked Hubby if he could pack a bag and change diapers so we could pack up and leave once I arrived at home.  I chose sushi as our dinner and Hubby made a reservation to make sure we had a table with 2 high chairs reserved.  When I got home, I quickly changed and then changed the kids into clothes that actually matched and off we went.

When we got to the restaurant we were seated next to a young couple at a table for two.  I was nervous.  I don’t like bringing the circus to anyone’s romantic dates.  I crossed my fingers and hoped the kids would act civil.  Our server came over and offered to bring the kids training chopsticks.  Fun!  Sure!  Sounds great!  FYI:  Training chopsticks are normal chopsticks that are jacked up and tied together with an elastic band with the balled up paper wrapper squished in between to create resistance.  While I am sure this works well for older kids, our 1 and 2 year old are lucky that we confiscated their chopsticks before they lost an eye…which obviously caused them to scream like hyenas.

We ordered our first round of sushi and put bibs on the babes.  As we waited for our food, a very pregnant woman and her boyfriend/husband were seated at the table next to us.  Miss Preggo took one glance at our double-highchaired table and was not impressed.  I get it.  You wanted to have a nice, peaceful dinner but were seated next to people who brought their babies out to dinner.  I tried to make eye contact with her and offer a smile and a “Happy soon-to-be-Mother’s Day!” but she did not reciprocate at all.  Just after they were seated, our server came over with two small bouquets of carnations and offered one to me and one to Miss Preggo and said “Happy Mother’s Day!”  How thoughtful!  Just as I laid the bouquet on the table, Miss M picked it up and waved it around like a wand.  I tried to teach her to say “Flower” but she just squealed and waved the bouquet until the carnations broke at the stem and fell to the ground.  As I scooped them off the floor, I couldn’t help but notice that Miss Preggo’s bouquet was in perfect form.  This is your last year of untouched flowers, amigo.

Our food started to arrive.  Hubby and I played an Olympic-level game of “Don’t put the hot plate in front of the babies!” as we grabbed each and every plate from baby reach.  I looked at the table for silverware to cut the food up into bite-sized pieces.  We were at a sushi restaurant.  Chopsticks were all we had.  Damn.  We started ripping sushi apart with our hands and placing bits and pieces in front of each baby.  Both kids were so excited and shoveled the sushi into their mouths.  Just as we got both kids situated with enough food to start eating ourselves, a server came over.  Through broken English and expressive gestures, he pointed to the food for the kids and spread his hands out as he said “for babies?”  I interpreted his limited words and actions as him offering some sort of place mat or plastic plate for the babies so I said “Yes.”  (We didn’t give either kid the porcelain plates that were offered so they wouldn’t be thrown on the floor and smashed.)  As the server walked away, Hubby turned to me and said “What did he ask?”  I dion’t know.  I think he has some kind of kids’ plates or placemat.  The server quickly returned with a big bowl and a hot cloth.  He promptly swept all of the food bits we had worked so hard to rip apart into bite-sized pieces into the bowl and then wiped down the table with the cloth.  I couldn’t help but laugh.  He was offering to clean up what he thought was a mess…but it was actually our kids’ dinners.  Both babes started bawling and rightfully so…some random man had just come and taken their dinners away!

As we calmed the kids down and quickly ripped the beans out of edamame while prepping more sushi and delicious tempura vegetables, the man sitting at the table next to us looked up to see Mr. C waving at him and saying “Hi!” over and over again.  Hubby and I playfully told Mr. C to eat his dinner.  This kind man tried to encourage Mr. C to eat.  He even picked up a piece of Mr. C’s edamame and ate it to make him laugh.  While it was alarming to have a stranger eat off of my son’s plate, it was also heartwarming to see a perfect stranger engaged enough to not only be accepting of the little ones beside him but actually help us out and play with him.  That being said, it could have been a first date and I give the guy credit because his dinner date was extremely impressed with his interaction with our little dude.  Well played.

Once the kids were set up (again) and eating, Hubby and I started scarfing down food like crazy, not knowing how much time we had left before someone freaked out.  While we did, Miss Preggo next to us repeatedly made loud comments (so I could hear) about how ridiculous it was to take babies to a restaurant and how they are ruining her dinner.  At this point, our kids had been extremely well behaved.  The only time they had freaked out was when the server cleared their dinner mid-meal, but who wouldn’t react like that in the same situation?  I tried my best to ignore her and enjoy our Mother’s Day dinner with the two little munchkins who were the reason I was celebrating Mother’s Day as a mother.

As we waited for our next round of food to arrive, Miss M started to get fussy and rambunctious.  She actually managed to take her sun dress off and throw it on the floor beside us while still strapped into the highchair.  The nice couple on one side of us laughed.  Miss Preggo on the other side, scowled.  Miss M wasn’t going to settle down.  I had left my phone in the car so decided to go and get it so I could entertain her by playing an episode of Dora the Explorer (the only television series I own through itunes.)  To let her have a stretch, I took her out to the car with me.  She smiled and said “Hi!” to every table we passed while Hubby and Mr. C continued to mow down on delicious Japanese food at the table.  We went to the car and grabbed my phone then returned to our table.

With absolutely no warning, Miss M threw up as I lifted her up to put her back into her high chair.  Without even looking, I could tell Miss Preggo was gagging.  I grabbed napkins from the table to try to catch it but it just kept coming.  I lifted Miss M’s dress to catch the puke in it.  It was a weird thing to do but it was a spontaneous reaction and my only way to not deal with puke all over the floor.  I could hear Miss Preggo coughing as her boyfriend/husband laughed and said “It’s actually not that bad.  Relax.”  She continued to gag.  Hubby got up to find paper towels.  I watched him go to the washroom as I stood, catching Miss M’s puke with Mr. C sitting in the high chair next to her.  Hubby was gone for what seemed like forever.  Miss M was still puking.  I needed to get her out of the restaurant.  I looked up to see Hubby walking aimlessly trying to get the attention of the staff.  We didn’t have time for these slow-motion shananigans.  I needed to get Miss M out of there…but couldn’t carry her out and leave Mr. C on his own in the highchair.  I yelled across for Hubby to come back.  I told him I was taking Miss M to the car.  He said he would pay the bill and then meet us at the car with Mr. C.  As he said that he realized he had forgotten his wallet.  I told him to grab mine from the diaper bag as I unbuckled Miss M.  I scooped her up, grabbed the diaper bag, contemplated apologizing to Miss Preggo but didn’t see it being well-received so decided to just run out of the door with Miss M in tow.

Miss M puked all over me on our way to the car.  I opened the passenger door, sat her down and took off her puked-on dress.  I opened the diaper bag to grab the baby wipes to “sponge-bathe” her.  When I did, I noticed my wallet sitting there.  This meant that I was covered in puke in the parking lot with a naked baby girl while Hubby was in the restaurant with a dinner bill, no wallet and a baby boy.  Oh man…  I tried to call him.  He didn’t answer.  In the meantime, Miss M seemed to be feeling much better and crawled all over the car wearing nothing but her diaper and dress shoes.  I tried to wipe the puke off of my own dress and contemplating stripping down myself because the puke smelled so bad.

As I wiped the puke off of myself, Hubby came running out, handed me Mr. C and took my debit card so he could run back in to pay before they thought he had “dined and dashed.”  I buckled both kids into their carseats and put Miss M’s puke-covered dress in the trunk.

Hubby came walking out laughing.  He said that the entire time he was paying the bill and cleaning up the table, Miss Preggo had dramatically been waving her hands in front of her face with her shirt lifted over her nose.  Poor thing.  Seriously.  Half because it truly is awful to have someone puke next to you while you eat dinner, nevermind when you are pregnant.  The other half because this is only the beginning of baby puke-filled adventures for her.  I really am sorry.  We brought puke and baby drama to her last mother’s day before she has baby puke and baby drama of her own.  Sorry Miss Preggo. :(0

We drove home with the windows down so I wouldn’t puke from the stench of my own puke-covered dress while discussing what might have made Miss M puke.  She wasn’t sick and was feeling fine now.  Who knows… Happy Mother’s Day!

Waiting in the car for Hubby to pay the bill

Waiting in the car for Hubby to pay the bill

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 bambinos, 11 months apart.  If you enjoyed this post, please subscribe to my blog or like my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Thanks for reading! xo


Leave a comment >

After a hectic Monday, I picked the babes up from daycare and assessed their moods and hunger levels as I put them in the car.  They didn’t seem overly tired or starving so I figured we would survive a trip to the grocery store.  We needed groceries.  I had just finished my 8th work day and was now off for two days.  If we could get grocery shopping out of the way now, I wouldn’t have to worry about dragging the kids out from our TWO super, fun Mommy/babies days ahead.  I normally do quick grocery runs on Sunday nights to stock up in homo milk, bananas, organic cereal bars and produce for the week.  Last night I was totally exhausted so I happily accepted Hubby’s offer to do the grocery run.  I anticipated him asking me what we needed and asking me to text him a list…he didn’t.  He was the one who was home with the kids all weekend so I guess he had a better idea of what we needed.  WRONG.  At 9pm Sunday night, he came home with one bag of milk, 3 cases of pop, 2 bags of chips and a less-than-fresh bouquet of flowers for me for Mother’s Day.  Apparently it was not so easy to accomplish simple tasks or run errands with two babies in tow.  I was shocked to hear this…it’s always so EASY for me.  (I couldn’t even type that with a straight face.)  So here we were on Monday, grabbing real food.  I had defrosted chicken breasts to cook tonight but decided that I would pick up a cooked rotisserie chicken from the deli and cook the chicken breasts tomorrow since I was already delaying the kids’ dinner time by making this shopping trip.  Any further delay could result in pure madness.

I paid for our groceries which included a cucumber that now had a huge bite out of the middle of it and a completely squished banana and ran out of the store as the kids started to scream in protest.

I pulled in the driveway and ran out to open the front door and throw my purse inside.  Then I ran back out and unbuckled 23 month old Miss M from her carseat.  She immediately started calling her brother’s name and reached for my hand so we could walk around the car to unbuckle 1 year old Mr. C from his seat.  She stood next to the car until he was out and then ran up to the door.  This has been our new routine and it has worked out fabulously and saves me running the babes in the door one kid at a time.

I brought Mr. C into the kitchen and buckled him into his high chair.  Miss M was happily playing with her alphabet magnets on the fridge while Mr. C screamed because he was now 30 minutes behind on his regular scheduled dinner time.  I dropped a handful of Goldfish crackers on to his tray and then ran outside to bring the groceries in from the trunk.  As the door slammed behind me, I heard a crash of something plastic on the kitchen floor.  I figured it was just alphabet magnets and quickly slid the handles of the grocery bags up my arms so I could bring everything inside in one trip.  My blood circulation probably would have appreciated me making this run in two trips but time is sacred.  I dropped the bags at the front door and ran in to check on the kids.  Mr. C was somewhat happy eating Goldfish crackers but had a look of desperation on his face hoping I was going to serve him something else.  I looked down at Miss M to see that the sound of plastic hitting the floor that I had heard less than a minute before was actually our baby thermometer.  She must have reached fromf the kitchen table where I had left it that morning after checking Mr. C’s temperature.  He had been suffering with a teething fever for 3 days but was fever-free today.  Hurray!  The back of the thermometer had come off and the case, batteries and thermometer were scattered all over the floor.  I hope it still works.

I picked Miss M up and strapped her into her booster seat.  She screamed hysterically because she didn’t want to be restrained.  Mr. C screamed hysterically as if to say “What is taking so long for my damn dinner?!”  I quickly chopped up an avocado and put half in front of each baby then pulled the lid off of our rotisserie chicken and pulled it apart into bite-sized, bone-free pieces like a caveman.  I grated some cheese and spooned a little macaroni salad in front of each of them and exhaled.  Sigh.  Dinner is served.  My adrenaline was pumping too much for me to eat just yet so I glanced around the already upside down kitchen to try to decide where to begin.  I picked up all of the alphabet magnets then picked up the pieces to the thermometer.  I popped the first AA battery back inside it then glanced across the floor for the second battery.  It was gone.  AA batteries aren’t exactly small.  How could it disappear?  I frantically pulled out each of the kitchen chairs, then the water cooler, then the fridge and then the stove.  It was gone.  I picked up all of our grocery bags from the floor, unpacked them and shook them out to see if the battery had dropped inside.  No luck.  I grabbed the broom and started sweeping underneath all of the cupboards and behind the fridge and stove.  While I did find all kinds of disgusting and questionable things, I did not find the battery.  I started to panic.  Could Miss M have swallowed the battery?  While she is definitely past the stage of putting things in her mouth and I highly doubted she would have just put a AA battery in her mouth and swallowed it down, I couldn’t find it so where else could it be?

At this point both babies were hysterical again because they were finished dinner and wanted to play.  I lifted each of them out of their seats and into the living room, securing the baby gate so I could search the kitchen for the missing battery.  I swept the floor and pulled out the fridge.  Mr. C was screaming on the other side of the gate.  I tried to assess whether he was screaming because he was tired, wanted Mommy or because a battery was corroding inside his stomach.  As I crawled around on all fours looking for the battery, I replayed the whole event in my head.  It was less than a minute that they were alone with the exposed batteries.  The chances of Miss M swallowing one were slim.  The chances of her picking it up and bringing it over to her little brother in his high chair and him putting it in his mouth were even more slim…but I couldn’t find it!  Both kids were screaming, I was starting to panic and I needed help.  I needed someone to come and help me find the battery or hold a screaming child or tell me that there was absolutely no way one of my kids had swallowed a battery.  I was terrified.  I called Hubby but he was at work 30 minutes away.  I called my mom.  No answer.  I called my dad.  He was home and flew over without even asking me to explain beyond the words “Can you come help me out?  I have a potential emergency!”  Before my dad arrived, I decided to pull the fridge out one more time.  I lunged to the side to use the weight of my body to pull it out. My knee extended to the side as I pulled on the fridge andwent right through the metal bars of the baby gate and was lodged in the stupid gate.  I tried to pull it out but lost my balance and fell forward pulling the gate off of the wall and onto the floor with my leg still stuck between the bars.  I just barely missed crushing Mr. C as I fell, attached to a giant piece of metal.  It hurt.  A lot.  I had to pry the gate off of my upper thigh.  The bars were bent.  How embarrassing.  What else could go wrong?

I crawled back to the kitchen to check behind the fridge with Mr. C crawling behind me crying.  I picked him up and continued to search for the battery.  Then I started to wonder if it had bounced through the bars of the baby gate when it dropped and if it was in the kids’ play area.  Panicking, I put both kids back in their seats to check their play room.  My dad arrived and I explained what had happened.  He also said that he doubted they would have swallowed it, especially since a AA battery is quite large in size so they probably would have choked on it if they tried.  But, he agreed that if I couldn’t find it, there was no way to say for sure.  My dad is a skilled first aider and didn’t see any symptoms to be alarmed about with either kid other than fiery tempers and a very poopy diaper.  We searched the kitchen together.  I hoped a fresh set of eyes would make it appear.  In desperation, I pulled out the kitchen garbage and started digging through it in case I had thrown it out without realizing it.  It would be pretty ridiculous if I found the battery in the garbage can but I’m really tired and have a million things on my mind at all times so it’s possible.  No luck.

At this point over an hour had passed.  I debated taking the kids to the Emergency Room but didn’t want to drag them their and be the idiot who thought one of my kids might have swallowed a battery but didn’t know for sure or which kid.  So I sat on the living room floor with both kids on my lap watching Dora the Explorer and called TeleHealth while my dad ripped apart the kitchen.  We are so fortunate to have a service like TeleHealth to call and get advice.  The nurses are always so friendly and helpful and they usually end the assessment by saying “Based on what you have told me, you can treat this at home.”  I am usually calling for ailments such as fevers, rashes and baby diarrhea.  Today, my heart sunk and my head started spinning as the nurse said “Based on what you have told me, you should go the Emergency Room immediately. Do not let either child eat or drink anything!”  I pulled the cup of milk from Mr. C”s mouth, packed up the kids and threw some diapers in a bag and got them buckled into their carseats just as Hubby arrived at home.  He drove to the hospital as I watched both kids in the backseat who seemed fine.  Tired but fine.

Swallowing a battery is an extremely dangerous thing.  The hospital staff was fabulous about rushing us in.  They ordered X-rays from neck to legs of both kids and put us in a pediatic treatment room to pace and wait.  Neither of the kids had any other symptoms.  Mr. C had a bit of a hard belly and some huge farts along with a great deal of crying so I started to suspect he might have swallowed it and hoped we would have answers before it was too late.  Both kids were assessed.  When the nurse practitioner lifted Mr. C’s shirt up to listen to his lungs, she asked me how long he had had his rash for…. What rash?  I immediately wondered if this was a symptom of a battery being corroded by stomach acid inside his little body.  He kicked and screamed throughout the examination.  Miss M handled it better but still wasn’t overly excited about being restrained on a bed by Mommy and Daddy while the nurse practitioner poked at her belly.

Within an hour, the nurse practitioner returned to the room and said that neither of the babies had swallowed the battery.  She said they wouldn’t be able to miss a battery on the X-ray and they had checked them from neck to legs and there was no sign of anything foreign in their little bodies.  I bawled my eyes out in relief.  I wanted to hug her but was very aware of how hot it was in that hospital and how I really needed to reapply deodarant.  Then I apologized for wasting their time and explained that after searching and searching for the missing battery, I didn’t want to waste any more time in case one of them had ingested it.  She agreed and said that I had done the right thing and wished us good luck with finding the battery.  Our poor kids spent the evening at the hospital getting X-rays that weren’t necessary but at least we knew for sure that they were okay.  As for the rash on Mr. C, the nurse practitioner felt that it was probably a heat rash and to get him checked out again if it gets any worse, especially since he has had a fever.

We came home around 10pm and I ran a hot bath with extra soap for both babes to get all of the hospital germs off of them.  Miss M had crawled on the floor, dropped her blanket off of the bed at least 10 times and even licked the counter while I was registering them.  Mr. C had reached out and grabbed the nurse’s pen and papers while she examined him.  It’s quite possible we have left with more issues than we walked in with.  We put them to bed.  I knew Miss M would not go to bed without “Bee,” her favourite blanket so I handed it over with the goal of washing it and anything it had touched first thing in the morning.

Now back to the missing battery.  The only downside (and it really isn’t a downside at all) to the kids NOT swallowing the battery is that it was still missing.  We had to find it before they did to prevent this whole thing from happening again.  Hubby went down to the kitchen to start looking while I cleaned up the bathroom from bath time, carrying all of their gross, germy clothes that they had worn to the hospital down to the laundry room.  Within 5 minutes he yelled down the stairs, “I found it!”  I couldn’t believe it.  It was tucked between the drawer on the stove and the stove and I guess it didn’t move even when I had frantically shoved my broom handle down the gap.  What a relief.

I’m glad we got the kids checked out to be sure.  Had one of them swallowed the battery,reacting quickly would have been the only way to save them.  My only regret is that I didn’t get my knee checked out after falling through the baby gate.  It is black and blue and swollen today.  Ah, well…

Thank you to my dad for quickly rushing to our aide and for calming me down.  Thank you to the TeleHealth nurse for telling me that that things like this happen all of the time to make me feel a little less like the worst mother on earth (thank you for also ignoring my drama when I responded with “Not to my kids it doesn’t! – Sorry!) and thank you to the fabulous ER staff for not making me feel like a complete idiot every time I had to repeat “I think one of my kids might have swallowed a battery.  Yes a AA battery.  Yes, the one that’s the size of the gap between your fingers as you hold them up to make sure we are talking about the same size.  No I don’t know which kid might have swallowed it.  No I don’t know for sure.”

What a crazy night.

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  If you liked this post, please click “Subscribe” or follow my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Thanks for reading! xo

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 201 other followers