Archive for March, 2009

Garden of Delights

March 18, 2009

Continuing adventures in potty training.

I’m glad we weren’t spending a nice afternoon enjoying the sunshine at a public park. First of all I couldn’t get Bea to settle and play on her mat with some toys. She just cried and cried until I gave up trying to feed, check her nappy, soothe, and entertain her. In desperation I took her back inside and as soon as I laid her down on her bed she contentedly stuck her hand in her mouth and closed her eyes.

Then it was Sam’s turn to drive me crazy. I’ve been struggling with his pottying again today. I’m really looking forward to the day that I can open his bedroom door when he wakes up, greet him with a cheery “Good Morning!” and give him a big hug without holding him tentatively and having to check his pants for stinkies. This morning was no exception. A knock on the door from Sam, “knock knock Mummy! Sammy awake now!”. Me opening the door to be greeted with a familiar whiff. A hug at arms length as I take a peek into his pants, and yes, frog march straight to the bathroom for the daily clean up ritual. Lovely.

I told mum earlier that on the bright side if he presents me with an early morning poop then at least I don’t have to worry about a mess later in the day. Remember those words, they come back to haunt me.

Oh and this morning was even better. Sam also provided me with two large puddles to clean up in the front room. Both times I saw him clutch his trousers and I asked him if he needed to “use the potty?” Each time he replied “No thankyou!” yet moments later I was horrified to see pee streaming onto the hardwoods.

I’m not cleaning up his mess anymore though. He can jolly well clean that up himself. So I pull out the mop, bucket and disinfectant and Sam mops up his own mess. I’m hoping he might get the message, but I suspect I have a problem in that Sam likes to mop.

So it is a bright and sunny day and we have made it into the back garden this afternoon. Bea is peacefully slumbering inside in her cot and Sam is happily running around the garden flitting from one activity to the next. Idyllic, except that suddenly I notice that Sam is no longer poking around looking for bugs but is peeing on the house. Pants and trousers are still on and his shoes and socks are also drenched. A telling off and a change of clothes tout de suite. I’m frustrated as after this morning I’d even provided him with his potty outside. No excuse.

Next we’re being creative painting some big cardboard boxes on the lawn and having fun. I missed it this time but he was soon running up to me letting me know his pants were soggy.

To make it even easier to use the potty I then let him run around in just his underpants. Next thing I know he is stood up, pants around his ankles and enjoying watching his urine stream into a bush.

After another clothing change he’s at it again! This time I’m really horrified to see him start to squat down in the middle of the lawn. Uh oh. I grabbed him and sat him on the potty just in time. Big poop! I think my boy has been taking lessons from Quincy!

Speaking of, he had been lazing around in the back garden with us but wandered off during all this. I’ve just been racing around outside yelling for him. I checked inside our house twice and all the neighbour’s yards. Despite my calling he did not come. I walked back in through the back door and you can probably guess who was there wagging his tail at me.

Finally, as Sam did yet another pee in the garden he peed all over his second pair of shoes and I gave up. He can’t run around our yard barefoot as I keep finding little shards of all sorts of coloured glass back there (what the hell were the old occupants doing?!) so I picked him up to carry him inside. As I did so he thrust his legs down and caught the top of my trousers. PING! Off flew the button and ZnnIP! down went the zip. I was stood there with my cords around my ankles and, carrying a wriggling Sam, had to waddle back into the house like that.

Like I said, I’m glad this was all in the privacy of our back garden.

Rice Maiden (Thanks for the title Grandad!)

March 17, 2009

Bea turned six months old on the twelfth and to my eyes is becoming more and more beautiful every day. Clever too. She’s been working determinedly on learning how to crawl and doing very well. She is much more patient than Sam was and can spend hours happily practicing. She does get around and has great forward mobility, but I wouldn’t quite go as far as to say she is crawling yet, not properly. She likes to get up on her hands and knees and then extend until her bottom is high in the air and she is on hands and the very tips of her toes. Like Sam did, she then rocks and rocks, and grunts, and rocks, but she hasn’t quite figured out how to shift her weight to move her hands and crawl. Unlike Sam when she then inevitably crumples on top of herself she doesn’t cry and wail in frustration. Instead, she takes the opportunity to shuffle forward commando style before concentrating back on the real task at hand.

She will happily chase toys all around the floor, pushing them away with her hands and then eagerly attempting to follow. In this she also differs from Sam as he never really took to any of his baby toys as affectionately or interestedly as Bea has. I was actually excited to come across some baby Sam toys I thought I’d already passed on because he paid them no heed. Bea loves them.

Bea is also very mouthy and while Sam never tried to put anything except food into his mouth, Bea will try to chew and gnaw on anything she can reach. She has a constant river of drool flowing from her gummy smile and down her chin, and in her quest to traverse the hardwoods in search of tasty toys she leaves quite the gloopy slug snail.

For the last few months whenever I have made tea and we sit down together to eat Bea has wailed and insisted on joining us. She even seemed to have a sixth sense akin to Quincy knowing when the cheese is coming out of the fridge and would create a ruckous if she was tucked away in her bedroom supposedly napping. Eating with a fixated baby staring at my every forkful has become common. She really seemed super excited about mealtimes and would squeal and fawn over every bite I took, even trying to snap at my cutlery on occasion. Of course until now she has been purely breastfed but now I feel like we must have been torturing the poor girl.

With six months under her onesie Bea came of age and had her first solid meal (rice cereal mixed with breastmilk) last night. She was ready. She was willing. She was ravenous. She liked it. See for yourself.

Favourite Sam words

March 3, 2009

Sam is really stringing words and sentences together nicely now, though some words trip him up and don’t come out of his mouth quite right. My current favourite Sam twists on everyday vocabulary are “pickle truck” and “tony nails.”

Snow fun.

March 2, 2009

After a weekend of torrential rain and watching the back yard turn into a large sloshy mess we got a gift from Atlanta last night. Snowy weather blew in from the west and after dark the first flakes started to pile up. Light was reflecting from the white layering up in the back yard and Bill and I were admiring how bright the snow made the garden in the throes of nighttime when suddenly the yard lit up in an electric blue flash and booming shortly echoed the neon. Thundersnow!

Yesterday Sam and I were running around in the back garden getting soaking wet and muddy from jumping in puddles, today we were gallomping around in snow, throwing snowballs and making a snowman.

Sam does not play fair in snowball fights. As I gathered up a handful of snow I turned my back on him for a second. When I straightened up I was faced with him coming at me wielding a very full shovel (adult sized) of snow and cackling loudly. Aargh!

While Bea slept peacefully in her warm bedroom Sam then art directed the building of his first snowman. “Snowman needs…head!” “Snowman needs…eyes! Here’s stones, two eyes Mummy! Needs eyes!”

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Snowman also needed lots of twig hair, and the big stick is, according to Sam, his hat. “Snowman NEEDS hat Mummy!”

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Sadly the poor snowman did not have a long or very peaceful life for as soon as he was completed he was subjected to being mercilessly kicked in the back and run over by Dump Truck.

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After a good run around and obligatory jumping in cold muddy puddles as the snow turned to slush I coaxed Sam back inside with promises of a nice hot chocolate drink to warm up. I’m regretting that already, should have left hot chocolate as a restaurant treat. Now he knows I can make it at home and he is persistently clamouring for more. I don’t think I’m going to hear the end of it.

It still looks as though it is snowing outside now even though the sky is a perfect Wedgewood blue and the sun is shining. The snow is rapidly melting from the branches and creating the appearance of a blizzard in the back garden.